


Feel Something

by AvaWorthWrite



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Depressed Sherlock, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mycroft's Meddling, Other, Overprotective Mycroft, Past Drug Use, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Sad Sherlock, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sherlock Whump, Study in Pink Au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7772755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWorthWrite/pseuds/AvaWorthWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You need to talk about it," Autumn whispered.</p><p>"About what?" Sherlock asked. </p><p>"About letting yourself feel." </p><p>"I can't!"<br/> <br/>"Why not?"</p><p>"Because it hurts too much!"</p><p>Bam! There was an explosion. Debris went everywhere and a car horn could be heard echoing in the distance</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"No! No! No!" Sherlock manhandled the chubby man down the stairs.  


"Get your hands off of me!"  


"No problem." He smiled and shoved the man out the door.  


"Have a good day." He slammed the door, then opened it again. "Oh, and your girlfriend is cheating." He grinned for a second and then the wicked little smile fell from his face as he slammed the door  


"No she ain't," Sherlock heard the man yell from the street.  


"Isn't. And yes she is," he yelled. "Idiot."  


"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson scurried out of her kitchen. "What was all that noise about? Really at my age I can't take all the chaos."  


"Mrs. Hudson, explain."  


"Explain what, dear?"  


Ding!  


"Don't answer the door."  


"Why Sherlock? It could be a client of yours." She bustled passed Sherlock and opened the door.  


There stood a petite young lady. She was about twenty-five, though she looked to be older, and more mature, just by the way she she carried herself. She had brown hair with red tones in it. Her on a black blouse was tucked into a red and black plaid midi skirt. Her hazel eyes were framed with wing tipped eyeliner and her plump lips decorated with ruby red lip stick. A small sparkling stud sat in her little turned up nose, and she wore a black cameo neck under the collar of her shirt..  


"Hi there, I am Autumn Grace. I believe we talked on the phone. I am here to see the flat for rent." Autumn held out the newspaper ad.  


"That Mrs. Hudson's problem."  


"Oh do step in, dear." She gestured to the young lady to enter the flat.  


"No. No. You may leave," Sherlock said to the young lady.  


"Oh, I am sorry. Have you already rented?"  


"Yes," Sherlock said.  


"No. We have not. Now Sherlock show the young woman around."  


"I don't need another flat mate," Sherlock stormed upstairs.  


"Sherlock, please."  


Autumn followed Mrs.Hudson upstairs.  


"Does John know about this?" Sherlock grabbed his violin off the coffee table before he dramatically slumped into his chair. He began to rapidly draw the bow of the instrument across the taunt strings.  


"Yes. It was his idea," Mrs. Hudson said.  


His eyebrows raised. He stopped playing and placed the violin on the small table beside him. However, he kept the bow in his hands. "What?"  


"He can't afford his part of the rent so I said you could get a third flat mate. That way the rent is cheaper for all of you."  
"And..."  


"And what, dear?"  


"I can tell that there is something you are leaving out!"  


"He was worried about you, Sherlock."  


"Worried. About me? I don't understand. He was worried, about me? Why would he be worried about me? What does he think will happen? And how does he think another flat mate will help?"  


"Oh, Sherlock, if you would give it a try. When John gets a job he won't be around all the time. It will help you to have more company."  


"No. I have already thrown out two of your prospective tenants. One had a hidden gambling addiction, the other unable to keep a steady relationship going because of his anger issues--don't touch that!" Sherlock gestured with his bow towards Autumn. She was about to touch the skull.  


"Ahh sorry," she said. "All this is your stuff?"  


"Yes. Yes. Cluttered, messy, annoying, gross--"  


"Yes."  


"John likes it," he mumbled.  


"I doubt that," Mrs. Hudson teased.  


Sherlock pouted.  


"It is cluttered and slightly creepy, but it is still very interesting."  


"Really? I know. I don't care. Why? Why is it interesting?"  


"Autumn, take a seat. How about I go make us all a nice cuppa?" Mrs. Hudson suggested.  


"Ok. Thanks." Autumn went to take a seat in John's chair.  


Sherlock felt anxious when he saw her sit in John's chair. However he didn't let it show, instead he focused on the strings of the bow in his hand.  


"What?" Autumn said. "Sorry should I not sit here."  


Sherlock's eyes shot up, glaring at her. Finally he blinked. "Empath," he whispered.  


"Sorry. What?"  


Mrs. Hudson eyed Sherlock. He sighed and rolled his eyes.  


"Nothing. How is America?" He glanced down at Autumn's shoes. "No. Canadian border. How is Canada. Eh?" He smiled but it fell away as soon as he turned to face the fireplace.  


"That's amazing," Autumn said  


"You think?"  


"Yes. How did you do it?"  


"By deducing it. I see it. I can't help but see it."  


"That must be...exhausting at times, to never be able to turn that off."  


Sherlock spun around, his blue robe fluttering around him. He pointed the bow of the violin at Autumn. "Don't. Don't do...that."  


"What?"  


"That, that thing where words come out of your mouth and you try to...understand, or whatever it is you are doing. It's painful for all of us." He pouted and slumped to the sofa, allowing the bow to fall to the side.  


"I have a right to let out the room, young man." Mrs. Hudson interjected. "And I won't have you ruining it! Be nice to her."  


Sherlock rubbed his eyes with his palms. "Ughh! Enough. Your constant yammering is making it worse."  
"I need to have a word with your mother!"  


"No point. She never listens."  


"Well, I am going to make that cuppa. Perhaps that's what you need, Sherlock."  


"I need something much stronger than TEA!" He let his hands fall to his side.  


Mrs. Hudson turned to Autumn and whispered. "He is in one of his dark moods, poor dear."  


"Mrs. Hudson. Tea. Yes. That would be great. Run along," Sherlock's said.  


"Don't order me, dear. I am your landlady not your house keeper." She headed downstairs to her kitchen.  


Autumn stood and walked over to the sofa. She reached down and picked up the bow, handing it to Sherlock. "Headache?"  


"What?"  


"Its like you can physically feel your thoughts pushing their way through your? There is a constant itching under your skin."  


He glanced up at the bow and hesitated. "What would you know about it?" Sherlock grabbed the bow and hugged it to chest before turning his back to Autumn.  


Footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs. "Sherlock, there is mail for you! Special delivery."  


A blonde haired man walked into flat. He wore a black jacket, jeans, and had a cane in his hand.  


"Who...who are...?"  


"Autumn. My name is Autumn."  


"Pretty name."  


"Pretty girl," Sherlock said. "That's why you are thinking, John."  


"Shut up, Sherlock!" John said, his voice was monotone and he didn't look away from Autumn as he spoke.  


"Oh, you must be the other person who lives here."  


"Brilliant deduction, " Sherlock mumbled into the couch cushion.  


"Yes. I am John Watson. Doctor John Watson."  


"Autumn Grace." I shook his free hand.  


"She is too young for you, John. Also, her hair isn't even naturally red and she hasn't showered in the past two days."  
John frowned. "Now how would you know--"  


"Dry hair shampoo, John! Its obvious" You can smell it even before she enters the room. Which means she packed and left in a hurry to come here. Wasn't a planned trip." He turned around, got up and walked over the table. "So what are you doing here and why did you need to get here so quickly?"  


"Sherlock. That's enough," John said. "Here, this is for you." He pulled a small yellow envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to Sherlock.  


Sherlock sat in his chair with his feet tucked up on top of it. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked back and forth. "Does it smell like lilacs?"  


John sighed and sniffed the envelope. "Yes. Yes, it does."  


Sherlock dropped his fee to the ground, and leaned back in the chair. He pressed his hands together and held them under his chin, while he was thinking. "Throw it out."  


"You haven't even read it!"  


"I don't need to. I know what it says. Destroy it"  


"Its says Mrs.Holmes on the return address. Is this from a relative?" He began to peal open the envelope.  


"John!"  


"Fine! Fine." He tore up envelope in half and threw it in the waste paper bin in the kitchen.  


"Not fond of your mother," Autumn said.  


John took a seat on the couch and Autumn sat beside him.  


"Not at this time of year," Sherlocks said. He was in a daze, glaring down the hallway, toward the bathroom.  


"He is not fond of anyone, really." John said.  


Sherlock blinked, braking his trance. "Mother. How did you know it was my mother?" Sherlock asked Autumn.  
"Don't all mother's like lilac?" She shrugged.  


"Ooo-ooh," Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs with a small tea services and some nibbles.  


"Lovely!" John said. "I am starving."  


"I baked the biscuits myself yesterday," Mrs. Hudson placed the tray on the coffee table.  


"You didn't have to go to all the trouble," Autumn said. "Tesco biscuits are okay for me."  


"I didn't have much choice, dear. John ate all the other biscuits."  


"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson. All Sherlock has in the fridge are bloody toes."  


Mrs. Hudson poured Sherlock a cup of tea and handed it to him. "Sherlock, dear. Your tea."  


He didn't respond. Instead he gazed down the hallway towards the bathroom and his bedroom.  


"He is like that for hours some time," John whispered to Autumn.  


"I guess I will have to get used to it."  


John licked his lips. "Sorry, are you a client or..."  


"Potential flat mate. That is if you will have me."  


"Sherlock, dear." Mrs. Hudson placed her hand on Sherlock's shoulder.  


He flinched. "Hmmm, yes sorry. Biscuits and toes in the fridge, you were saying?"  


"Your tea," she handed him the tea cup.  


"Thank you."  


She patted his shoulder. "No worries, dear."  


Sherlock drank his tea in one gulp and handed the cup back to Mrs. Hudson. "Be right back."  


"Sherlock, where are you off to?"  


He walked down the hall, to the washroom and slammed the door.  


"Is he okay?" Autumn asked as she poured herself a cup of tea.  


"Who knows," Mrs. Hudson said. "He is Sherlock. I mean...what's okay to him, may be different to others, and what's okay to others may be different for him."  


"What Mrs. Hudson is saying is that we really don't have a reference point."  


"But he is still a person, right. He still has feelings."  


"I don't think he feels things in the way...normal people do, and if he does feel anything at all he has learned to block it out. Shut it off."  


"Why would he want to do that?"  


"I think because he finds emotion pointless and that it gets in the way of logic and reason."  


"Should someone go check on him?"  


John got up and walked down the hallway, even before he could knock on the door Sherlock spoke.  


"I am fine. Leave." Sherlock hollered from the bathroom.  


John shrugged and headed back into the living room.  


Mrs. Hudson turned to Autumn. "We should leave him alone for a bit. How about I show you the extra room up stairs."  
"Sure."  


***  


"You know I am not in love...with the room I have. So if you like it best out of the two I don't mind parting with it and taking the other." John took a seat in his chair and Autumn sat on the sofa.  


"Thanks, but you were here first. I don't want to kick you out of your room."  


"I am just saying whatever...whichever is find with me."  


"Thanks."  


"Oh, I am so excited to have another female in the place," Mrs. Hudson took a seat beside Autumn.  


"Yes, a woman's touch would be nice," John said. His eyes widened and his face turned red. "I mean...if you could you know help decorate the place...erm...better. My mother always had potpourri in the house, probably to cover up the smell of the alcohol. But anyway what I am saying is that you could help me...pick out potpourri?"  


"Ah, sure if that's what you want."  


Mrs. Hudson started laughing and laughing and laughing.  


"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson. That's good."  


"I am...I am sorry, John." But she really wasn't because she couldn't stop laughing.  


She collected all the cups on the tray and took it. John and Autumn could still hear her laughing as she walked down the stairs.  


"She is a lovely lady. I think I am really going to like living here," Autumn said.  


"Yes. I think we will get a long great."  


The door to the bathroom burst open. Sherlock walked into the living room and flopped into his chair. He seemed more calm, more at easy. The cuffs of his robe, was rolled up,and so was his shirt underneath. Three nicotine patches were placed on his arm, near the crook of his elbow. Sherlock glanced down at his arm, pressing the patches one minute and then pulling on the edges of them the next minute. He had a sad look of resignation in his eyes.  


John licked his lips before he spoke, trying to find the right words. "So...umm, feeling any better...mate?"  


"Hmmm. Oh. You are both still here."  


"Yes. I am going to be your new flat mate," Autumn said. "But only if you are okay with it."  


Mrs. Hudson came back up the stairs. "Oh, Sherlock. I thought I heard you. You look better, dear."  


"I feel better." He smiled.  


"That's good. I new that all you needed was a nice cuppa."  


"Yes. It helped greatly. Thanks you."  


"I just wanted to make sure you were okay with Miss. Grace living here, Sherlock."  


"Yes. We were just talking about that," John said. He cleared his throat. "Go on. Tell her you are okay with it, Sherlock."  


"Oh, what? I am fine with it, why wouldn't I be? As long as Miss. Grace knows what she is getting into. I play the violin when I am thinking, and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Potential flat mates should know worst about each other."  


"Don't worry. That wont bother me," Autumn said.  


Sherlock reclined in his chair with his head resting against the back of it. His bare arm laden with patches hung over the armrest. "Don't speak too soon."  


"You are not so bad," she said. "In fact you are so calm right now."  


"Mood swings," John whispered to Autumn.  


"He will be calm for hours now," Mrs. Hudson added. "I don't know what to do with the bliss."  


"I can hear you," his the deep vibrato of his voice resonated through the flat.  


"Is your headache gone now?" Autumn glanced at the patches near the crook of his elbow.  


"Yes. Yes it is gone...for now." Sherlock curled in on himself.  


***  


"Where are you off to? And where did that pink case come from?"  


John was putting his coat and heading downstairs with his cane in cane in his hand.  


"You heard of those serial suicides?"  


"Yes. The ones in the news. Horrible." Autumn felt a sadness wash over her.  


"Chances are they aren't suicides, but murders. The pink case belonged to one of the victims."  


"Yup. He is waiting for me downstairs. We might catch the killer tonight."  


"Can I come?"  


He stopped, blinked. "Ummm. I don't know if--"  


Autumn placed her hands on her hips just above the waist of her black skinny jeans. "You were not going to say its not the place of a woman."  


"No. I was going to say its not my place to invite you. It is Sherlock's case."  


John's text alert started going off.  


"That's probably Sherlock telling me to hurry up."  


Autumn picked up her black leather jacket up off of the coffee table and put it on over her green lace top. "Well then we better hurry."  


"Um. Okay then."  


Sherlock saw Autumn was not happy at all. "What is she doing here?"  


"I am coming with you."  


"No. No. NO!"  


"What? Why can't I come along?"  


"It could be dangerous," Sherlock said.  


"That's okay. I just finished all my unpacking. I could use a break. Some danger might be nice and relaxing."  


"Come on, Sherlock," John said.  


"Fine. But you better not slow me down!" Sherlock started walking. John and Autumn followed.  


"Umm. If anyone was going to slow you down I think it would be me." John glanced down at his leg.  


"It's psychosomatic!" Sherlock said.  


"Where are we headed?" Autumn zipped up her leather jacket.  


"Northumberland Street."  


***  


Autumn, John, and Sherlock sat at table by the window in a restaurant. Autumn sat beside John listening to their conversation as she ate the remaining bit of her pasta.  


"I’m sorry?" Sherlock finally responded.  


"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn’t happen."  


"True," Autumn said. "I found that most enemies people fight are the things that hold them down. Their demons, as people say."  


"Sounds a bit dull," Sherlock kept his gaze on the window.  


"So who did I meet?" John said.  


"Hmm what are you talking about?" Autumn asked.  


"Long story. I was looking for a--  


"Taxi!" Autumn said.  


"Exactly. What? Can you read minds?"  


"No, taxi!" Autumn pointed to the window.  


"Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out." Sherlock grabbed his coat and sprinted for the door.  
Autumn followed John and Sherlock down several streets, but eventually she fell behind and got lost. Her legs ached ands he was out of breath. Starting to panic that she was lost she turned down one more alleyway onto a side street. In the distance she could see the taxi coming, and Sherlock and John running after it in the distance. The taxi was going to get away so Autumn did something drastic. She ran out in front of the taxi and it swerved to the side, coming to a halt.  
"I can't believe I just did that," Autumn said to herself. She was out of breath and the shock of what she did was was sinking into her bones.  


"Are you alright?" John placed his hand on Autumn's shoulder.  


"I am fine," Autumn said. "What's Sherlock doing?"  


Sherlock had the back door of the taxi open and he was leaning over, apparently talking to someone.  


John and Autumn rushed over to see what was going on.  


"Police! Open her up!" Sherlock pounded on the door of the taxi.  


The passenger opened the door.  


Sherlock glared into the taxi for several seconds. "No."  


"What? No? Why no?" John said.  


"Teeth, tan--what, Californian?"  


The passenger gaped.  


"L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived," Sherlock said.  


"How can you possibly know that?" John asked.  


"The luggage." Sherlock pointed to the luggage tags.  


"Wow," Autumn said.  


"It’s probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?"  


"Sorry – are you guys the police?" The passenger asked.  


"Yeah." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a badge. "Everything all right?  


"Yeah," the passenger replied, looking confused.  


"Well...welcome to London," Sherlock said,  


"Er, any problems, just let us know," John added and slammed the car door.  


"Basically just a cab that happened to slow down," John said.  


"Basically," Sherlock said.  


"Not the murderer," Autumn asked Sherlock.  


"Not the murderer, no."  


"Wrong country, good alibi," John said.  


"As they go."  


"So I almost got run over for nothing," Autumn said.  


"Yes. You could have ruined everything, which is why I didn't want you to come!"  


"What? I flung myself in front of a taxi to stop it for you!"  


"And the only reason we slowed down is because we lost you and John was trying to find you."  


"Hey." John took notice to something in Sherlock's hand. "Hey, where-where did you get this?" He pulls the badge from Sherlock's hand.  


"Detective Inspector Lestrade?"  


"Yeah. I pickpocket him when he’s annoying. You can keep that one, I’ve got plenty at the flat."  


John started laughing.  


"What's so funny? I almost died and we chased an innocent traveler through the city?" Autumn unzipped her jacket. All the running had made her warm.  


"Nothing, just, 'Welcome to London'."  


"Umm maybe we should leave." Autumn pointed down the road to where the taxi was stopped and the passenger was speaking with a police officer.  


"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked John.  


"Ready when you are."  


They all ran off down the road.  


***  


"So what now?" Autumn walked walked between John and Sherlock down the street.  


Sherlock steepled his hands and brought them under his chin. "I need to go home and think."  


"Sherlock, are we being followed?" John glanced over to the street where a white van with tinted windows was moving slowly beside us.  


Before Sherlock could reply the van swerved and came to a screeching halt near the curb. The doors swung open and three masked men in black lunged for Sherlock and started to drag him into the van.  


"Sherlock!" Autumn lacked onto his arm and tried to pull him away from the masked man.  


"Don't move!" John reached for his gun, but it was knocked out of his hand by one of the attackers. The assailant picked the gun up from the ground and placed it his jacket pocket, while another masked man held John down.  


Two more masked men appeared form inside the van. They grabbed Sherlock, John, and Autumn, dragging them into the van.  


Autumn screamed for help, but one of the attackers placed his hand over her mouth before they were thrust ruddily into the back van. The attackers slammed the door and drove off at break neck speed.  


"What do you want?" John asked. "Are you the same people that kidnapped me before."  


"You were kidnapped before?" Autumn's eyes widened. "Why didn't you go to the police?"  


"Well, it wasn't by masked men. There was a pretty girl--"  


"Enough," said one of the masked men. He lifted a black bag off of the ground and pulled out a needle and a strip of rubber. "Take off your coat," the man said to Sherlock.  


"Why?" Sherlock finally broke his silence.  


"Just do it."  


"Listen, I am sure someone witnessed you taking us and they have already called the police--"  


"We aren't going to hurt you. We just need something from Mr. Holmes," the masked man said, still holding the needle.  


"And what is that?" Sherlock started to take off his coat.  


"Blazer too."  


Sherlock eyed his captor for several long seconds before removing his jacket. "I assume you want me to roll up my sleeve."  


"Sherlock," John warned.  


Sherlock looked from John to the masked man with the needle. Without missing a beat Sherlock rolled up his sleeve revealing an arm full of nicotine patches.  


The masked man tied the band around Sherlock's arm, making the vein bulge. Next the masked man brought the needle up to Sherlock's vein.  


"Don't!" Autumn lunged forward, but John held her back.  


The masked man drew the needle in and took a pint of Sherlock's blood.  


Autumn flinched and turned away, burring her face against John's shoulder.  


"Why are you doing this?" John directed his question to the masked man.  


"We are good," Autumn heard the mask man yell to the driver of the van.  


The car stopped.  


"Out you go!" The masked man threw Autumn, Sherlock and John to the curb in front of Baker Street.  


"Ow!" Autumn said as she collided with the pavement.  


John grunted as he hit the pavement and Sherlock just stared up at the van.  


"Look! You are home. Best taxi service one could ask for and you didn't even have to pay. Oh, but don't forget your things!" He threw Sherlock's jacket and John's gun to the ground. The van sped off so fast the tires made a screeching noise, and they burned rubber.  


"Did you see the license plate?" Autumn watched the car disappear into the distance.  


"It was covered with mud," Sherlock said, monotone.  


"Let me see your arm!" John knelt beside Sherlock.  


"It's fine."  


"No let me see, they could have poisoned you."  


"They didn't."  


"How do you know that?" Autumn gazed down at the bloody injection spot on Sherlock's vein. The rubber was still tied around his arm, making the vein bleed more and more.  


John removed the rubber and threw it aside before applying pressure to Sherlock's arm. "You need to go to the hospital."  


"I am fine. If they wanted to poison me then they could have just inject me with poison." Sherlock stood up and rolled down his sleeve.  


Autumn's body ached as she stood up and dusted herself off.  


John stood and up and took out his phone. "We need to call an ambulance and take you to the hospital."  
"No! I am fine." Sherlock picked picked up his coat.  


"You have no idea what could have been on the end of that needle." Autumn said. "It could have been poisoned."  


"If they wanted me dead then they could have done it in the van. Why poison me, then give me the opportunity to go to the hospital before the poison could take full effect? It makes no sense."  


"You seem rather calm," Autumn said. "Why isn't this bother you more?"  


"I think I know who is responsible," Sherlock murmured. "And he is annoying but harmless...to me anyway."  


"Who?" Autumn asked.  


"It doesn't matter!"  


"It does. They just abducted us and--"  


"Enough! Let's just get inside," John said. "It's getting cold out here." John took his thumb off of the crook of Sherlock's arm.

  


They headed back indoors and stopped catch their breath by the stairs.  


"Okay, it may not be the appropriate time, but I just have to say that was ridiculous in a fun sort of way--not including the part where we were kidnapped.  


"Yeah it was...something," Autumn hung her jacket up on a coat hook by the door.  


"That was the actually the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done," John said leaning against the wall.  


"And you invaded Afghanistan," Sherlock said, rolling down his shirt sleeve now that the bleeding stopped.  


John started to laugh and it was contagious. Sherlock started to laugh too and Autumn couldn't help herself.  


"That wasn’t just me," John added.  


"Wait," Autumn said, "why aren’t we back at the restaurant?"  


"Oh, they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway," Sherlock said.  


"So what were we doing here?" John furrowed his brows and Autumn thought it was cute.  


"Yea. I would like to know what we were doing," Autumn said.  


"Oh, just passing the time," Sherlock glanced over at John. "And proving a point."  


"What point?" John said.  


"You."  


"Mrs Hudson! Doctor Watson will be keeping the room upstairs."  


"I was wondering why John has the upstairs room. It's kind of cruel to make him walk up those stairs."  


Sherlock shrugged. "John insisted. Didn't want to be treated differently."  


"That's true. But who says I want to keep the room?" John said.  


"Says the man at the door," Sherlock smiled.  


There was a knock on the front door. John went to open it.  


"Angelo?" John said.  


"Sherlock texted me," Angelo said, holding up John's cane. "He said you forgot this."  


John stares, totally in shock that he forgot his cane. "Er, thank you. Thank you."  


"Good night!" Angelo smiled and walked away.  


John closed the door.  


Mrs. Hudson suddenly came out of her kitchen. "Sherlock, what have you done?"  


"Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock frowned.  


"Upstairs," she said.  


Sherlock headed up stairs. John and Autumn followed after him.  


When they got up to the flat there was a man with grey hair sitting in Sherlock's seat. Autumn recognized him from the papers as D.I. Lestrade.  


"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.  


"Well, I knew you’d find the case. I’m not stupid," Lestrade said.  


"What's going on?" Autumn looked around the flat. There was a team of people searching through all of Sherlock's stuff.  


"Who are you?" Lestrade stood up.  


"Autumn Grace. I live here."  


Lestrade's eyes widened. "Really? Here? With Sherlock?"  


"Umm...yes in the second bedroom upstairs."  


Sherlock was pacing. "You can’t just break into my flat!"  


Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "And you can’t withhold evidence. And I didn’t break into your flat."  


"Well, what do you call this then?"  


"It’s a drugs bust."  


Autumn swallowed hard and glanced down the hall toward the bathroom.  


John blinked several times and his mouth gaped. He looked astonished. "Seriously? This guy, a junkie? Have you met him?"  


Sherlock turned to face John, looking at him intently. "John ..."  


John glanced over at DI Lestrade. "I’m pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational."  


"John!" Sherlock said. "You probably want to shut up now."  


John glanced up at Sherlock. "Yeah, but come on ..."  


John's determination fizzled out after looking into Sherlock's eyes. "No," John said, disappointment in his voice.  


"What?"  


"You!"  


"Shut up!" Sherlock said in anger.  


Autumn was becoming anxious. If drugs were found in Sherlock's flat he would be charged for possession.  


"I’m not your sniffer dog," Sherlock said to Lestrade.  


"No, Anderson‘s my sniffer dog." Lestrade nodded toward the kitchen.  


"What, An..."  


A man wearing a black jacket and holding a jar came out of the kitchen.  


"Anderson," Sherlcok hissed, "what are you doing here on a drugs bust?"  


"Oh, I volunteered," Anderson said.  


"They all did. They’re not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they’re very keen."  


"Are these human eyes?" A lady with medium brown skin and dark curly hair walked to the entrance of the kitchen. She was holding a jar of eyeballs.  


"Put those back, Donovan!" Sherlock said.  


"They were in the microwave!" she said.  


"It’s an experiment!" Sherlock argued.  


"Keep looking, guys."  


Autumn took a seat on the sofa. Her leg bounced nervously up and down. She wasn't sure what she should do.  
"Leave!" Sherlock said to Lestrade.  


"You could help us properly and I’ll stand them down," Lestrade smirked.  


"This is childish," Sherlock paced back and forth.  


"Well, I’m dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?"  


Sherlock stopped pacing and glared at Lestrade. "Oh, what, so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"  


"It stops being pretend if they find anything."  


"I am clean!"  


"Is your flat? All of it?"  


"I don’t even smoke." Sherlock unbuttoned his jacket and his shirt underneath to reveal the patches on his arm.  


Surprisingly the DI did the same and revealed a patch on his arm. "Neither do I."  


Donovan walked from the kitchen into the living room. "I am going to search the bathroom," she said to Lestrade.  


"Careful. There could be a dead body in there," Anderson teased.  


"No kidding," she replied.  


"Ummm. I need to use the washroom. I think I am going to be sick," Autumn stood. "It's probably the trauma from being kidnapped."  


"What?" Donovan nodded toward Sherlock. "Did he kidnap you?"  


"No." Autumn placed her hand on her stomach to make it look like she was going to be ill.  


"What is she on about?" Lestrade furrowed his brows in confusion.  


"Nothing," Sherlock said.  


"Excuse me!" Autumn ran to the washroom and slammed the door, locking it behind her.  


If Sherlock was going to hide drugs it would be in the bathroom. They would be to easy to find in the living room or kitchen. 

Anyone could walk in on him if he was using in the bedroom, but everyone knocked first before going in the bathroom.  


"Where?" Autumn whispered. She searched the cabinet, and the tiles on the floor, searching for the a secret compartment. 

"Come on, Autumn. Where is the last place you would look. Her gaze fell upon the toilet. "No."  


She removed the lid of the tank on the toilet and found a mason jar. Inside the jar was a small bag of white powder. The lid was tight, keeping the gross rust tinged water away from the jar.  


Autumn took the jar out of the toilet. It took several tries, but she finally opened the lid. She removed the drugs and put them into her jean pocket before placing the mason jar in the cupboard beneath the sink.  


"Are you alright?" John knocked on the bathroom door.  


"Ummm. I am fine," Autumn said in a weak voice. She started to make loud retching noises as she quietly placed the lid back on the toilet tank.  


"Sherlock is talking about who might have kidnapped us," John yelled.  


Autumn washed her hands and opened the door. "Oh, good."  


Autumn headed into the living room.  


"Your brother?" Lestrade said.  


"My brother is always meddling. It was probably just him."  


"Well then I would like a word with your brother," Autumn said. She was so nervous her palms started to sweat. She hadn't had any contact with Mycroft since he told her to move into 221 B Baker Street a few days ago.  


"Trust me. You really don't want to. He was a horrible big brother."  


"Enough of your family drama. We are supposed to be working." Donovan said before heading to the bathroom.  


"Right," Lestrade said. "Let’s work together, Sherlock. We’ve found Rachel."  


"Who is she?"  


"Yeah. What are we talking about?" Autumn said as she sat on the sofa.  


"Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter. Jennifer's the latest victim in the serial suicides," Lestrade said.  


"Her daughter?" Sherlock frowned. "Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?"  


"Never mind that," Anderson said. "We found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath."  


"I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research."  


"You never mentioned that before I moved in," Autumn said.  


"I thought it was obvious," Sherlock said to Autumn.  


"What! No. You mentioned playing the voilin and being quiet," She said. "Don't you thing being a you sociopath should be included in that list?"  


Sherlock ignored Autumn, said to Lestrade. "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her."  


"She’s dead."  


"Excellent!"  


John, who stood by Sherlock's side, looked startled.  


"How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be."  


"Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago." Lestrade said.  


"No, that’s ... that’s not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?"  


"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup, sociopath. I’m seeing it now," Anderson said from the kitchen.  


Sherlock turned to him. "She didn’t think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt."  


"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he ... I don’t know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow," John suggested.  


"Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?"  


Sherlock took a moment. "Not good?"  


"Bit not good, yeah," John replied.  


"Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you’d been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?"  
"Please, God, let me live."  


"Oh, use your imagination!"  


"I don’t have to."  


"Neither do I," Autumn said.  


"What?" Sherlock turned to Autumn.  


"When I ran in front of a taxi for you and almost died. All I could think was how I had left over brownies in the fridge that I would never get to finish. And the taxi driver didn't even get out of the taxi to see if I was okay!"  


"Right," John said awkwardly.  


"Yeah, but imagine if you were clever," Sherlock said.  


"Wow, thanks," Autumn said.  


"Really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers--she was clever." Sherlock started to pace. "She’s trying to tell us something.'  


Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs. "Isn’t the doorbell working? Your taxi’s here, Sherlock."  


"I didn’t order a taxi. Go away."  


"Oh, dear. They’re making such a mess. What are they looking for?"  


"It’s a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson."  


"But they’re just for my hip. They’re herbal soothers."  


"Shut up! Everybody, shut up! Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You’re putting me off.  


"What? My face is?" Anderson said in disbelief.  


"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back."  


"Are you serious?"  


"Your back, now, please! That is if you want to keep your job."  


"Autumn stop fidgeting with whatever it is you have in your jean pocket!" Sherlock said.  


"It's just...a hair elastic."  


"Come on, think." Sherlock said to himself. "Quick!"  


"What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson said.  


"Mrs. Hudson!"  


She turned around and scurried down the stairs.  


"Oh." Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!"  


"What? What's happening?" Sherlock said.  


"She’s cleverer than you lot and she’s dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn’t lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him!"  


"Oh, of course she did!" Autumn beamed.  


"Your understanding this?" Lestrade pointed at Sherlock.  


"No, actually not a clue."  


"Ok, Sherlock, how?" Lestrade looked exasperated.  


"Wha...? What do you mean, how?" Sherlock said.  


"We are not following," John said.  


"Rachel!" Sherlock threw up his hands in excitement.  


"That's what I thought," Autumn said, not understanding at all.  


"Don’t you see? Rachel!"  


"Oh, look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Rachel is not a name."  


"Then what is it?" John said.  


"Is it the a...code of the poison she was killed with?" Autumn suggested.  


Silence followed and Sherlock gave her a look that suggested she was never actually born with a brain.  


"Ok, never mind," she said.  


"John," Sherlock said, "on the luggage, there’s a label. E-mail address."  


Sherlock took a seat at the dinning table in the living room and opened up his laptop.  


"Oh, I’ve been too slow. She didn’t have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it’s a smartphone, it’s e-mail enabled."  


He has pulled up Mephone’s login and typed in the email address into the "User Name" the login box. "So there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address ...and all together now, the password is?  


"Rachel," John said.  


"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" John said.  


"Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It’s a smartphone, it’s got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She’s leading us directly to the man who killed her."  


"Unless he got rid of it," Lestrade said.  


"We know he didn’t," John said.  


Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs. "Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver ...  


Sherlock got up and walked over to the door. "Mrs Hudson, isn’t it time for your evening soother?"  


"But your taxi..." she said.  


"Perhaps he is the taxi driver that almost ran be over!" Autumn said.  


"You are the one who ran in front of the taxi!" John said.  


"But why didn't the driver come out to see if I was okay? It's common courtesy."  


Sherlock turned to Lestrade. "We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter. We’re gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won’t last for ever."  


"We’ll just have a map reference, not a name."  


"It’s a start!"  


"Sherlock ..." John said.  


"It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It’s the first proper lead that we’ve had."  


"Sherlock..." John repeated.  


Sherlock ran over to the laptop. "What is it? Quickly, where?"  


"It’s here. It’s in two two one Baker Street."  


Sherlock stood up. "How can it be here? How?"  


"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere.  


"What, and I didn’t notice it? Me? I didn’t notice?"  


"Anyway, we texted him and he called back."  


Lestrade turned to his colleagues. Guys, we’re also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim ..."  


Autumn suddenly felt an eerie presence in the room. She glanced over to the door where Mrs. Hudson lingered. A man walked up the last two stairs and onto the landing. He was wearing a a cardigan and a cap. The hat slightly obscured his face. He a lanyard around his neck with a his taxi driver badge at the end of it.  


"Why didn't he get out of the car to see if you were okay, Autumn?" Sherlock whispered.  


"Sorry, what?" she said.  


"Sherlock, you okay?" John said, concern written on his face.  


Sherlock watched the taxi driver descend the stairs. "What? Yeah, yeah, I-I’m fine."  


"So, how can the phone be here?" John said.  


"Dunno," Sherlock said.  


"I’ll try it again," Sherlock said.  


"Good idea."  


Sherlock heads toward the door.  


"Where are you going?" John said.  


"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won’t be long."  


"You sure you’re all right?"  


"I’m fine." Sherlock said.  


***  


"You killed someone, John and I witnessed it! We are going to go to prison!"  


John and Autumn turned down an alleyway and hid in the darkness. The gun was still in his hand, and his hand was trembling.  


He was looking at Autumn, but it was like he really didn't see her.  


"It's going to be okay, John." She had to pry the gun away from his shaking fingers.  


It was John who realized that Sherlock was in danger. They used the gps on Sherlock's laptop to find out the cabbie had taken him to Roland-Kerr College.  


However, when Autumn and John arrived they were faced two different buildings and they didn't know which one Sherlock was in.  


Autumn decided it would be best if they split up. John objected since she was unarmed, and they were trying to find dangerous man.  


Autumn argued until John agreed. They split up; Autumn went in one building and John went into the other.  
Just as Autumn found Sherlock and the cabbie a bullet shot threw the window and the cabbie was thrown back.  
Autumn looked through the glass window in the of the door. She new it must have been John that shot the cabbie.  
However, the cabbie didn't die right away. Autumn placed her trembling hand over her mouth as she watched Sherlock press his foot onto the cabbie's wound and scream at him.  


Autumn couldn't help but feel sorry for the man, no matter how horrible he was. She could almost feel the gun shot wound in her chest as Sherlock dug the heel of his shoe into it deeper and deeper. Pity crawled under her skin.  


"Sherlock stop!" She pushed through the door way.  


The cabbie uttered one last dying word and Sherlock smiled.  


Autumn could feel Sherlock's anger in the pit of her stomach and the room was tinged with the despair of death.  
"Autumn," Sherlock said, taking his foot off of the cabbie.  


The sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance. Autumn was overwhelmed with different emotions, and she ran.  


Once she was outside the building she found John. He was just standing in the dark, staring at the gun in his hand.  
She pulled him into the alleyway before the police pulled into the driveway.  


"We need to hide the gun," Autumn whispered.  


***  


Autumn stood beside John as he spoke to Sherlock. She had not said a word since the alleyway.  


"Um, Sergeant Donovan’s just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn’t it? Dreadful." John said.  


"Good shot," Sherlock smiled.  


"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window."  


"Well, you’d know."  


John glanced down at Autumn, looking to her for help. She shrugged.  


"Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case."  


"Are you all right?"  


"Yes, of course I’m all right."  


"Well, you have just killed a man."  
"Yes, I--that’s true, innit?" John took a moment. "But he wasn’t a very nice man."  


"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie."  


"That’s true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!"  


John giggled and Sherlock smiled  


"Stop! Stop, we can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene! Stop it!" Autumn said.  


"John's the one who shot him. Don’t blame me," Sherlock said to Autumn.  


"Keep your voice down!" John said.  


Donovan shot them a dirty look.  


"Sorry – it’s just, um, nerves, I think," John said.  


"Sorry," Sherlock added.  


"You were gonna take that pill, weren’t you?" John asked Sherlock.  


"Course I wasn’t. Biding my time. Knew you’d turn up."  


"No you didn’t. It’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? You risk your life to prove you’re clever."  


"Why would I do that?"  


"Because you’re an idiot."  


"Yes, you are," Autumn's voice trembled.  


"Are you...are you alright?" John asked her.  


"No. Not really. If Sherlock hadn't almost taken the pill you wouldn't have had to kill a man," she whispered.  


"No. If that man hadn't killed people--if he hand't tried to kill me then John wouldn't have shot him," Sherlock said. "He chose his own fate."  


"You didn't have to play the game!" Tears were forming in Autumn's eyes. "You didn't have to try to take the pill. You endangered your own life, and mine, and you have turned John into a murder."  


"John went to war. He was already a murderer."  


"He was an army doctor," she replied.  


"And a soldier too" Sherlock added.  


"Look," John whispered, "I am just glad I got there in time. Do we have talk about this here...you know with police everywhere!" A police lady walked by and John smiled up at her.  


"If Sherlock hand't taken the pill the cabbie would still be alive and their could be a court case. No one had to loose their life," Autumn whispered. "Was it it worth it? Was it worth the momentary high? Was it worth the distraction? A man lost his life!"  


"He took people's lives. He took Jennifer's Wilson's life," Sherlock said. "Do you really think any court case would bring closure to any of those families?"  


Autumn thought of all those other victims and a wave of sadness came over her. "I know that he was awful, horrible person, but I am just saying...he didn't have to die if you didn't play his game. How many more people are going to be hurt because you don't want to be bored? Perhaps if you just let yourself finally feel something instead of getting high, you wouldn't need to risk your life and the live's of others."  


"No. Don't pretend to know me Miss. Grace," he hissed.  


"I know more than you think. I know..." Autumn spotted an all black car with tinted windows pull into the parking lot. It reminded her to bite her tongue before she said too much.  


Sherlock took a moment before he spoke. "Caring is not an advantage, Autumn. The cabbie cared for his grandchildren and four people are dead because of it. Caring is dangerous."  


"Stop it." Autumn held her head in her hands. "You don't understand--"  


"Understand what?" John asked.  


Autumn closed her eyes and shook her head. "Never mind. I am sorry, okay. It's over now and I am just glad we are all safe."  


Sherlock smiled. "Good. Now that's all over. Dinner?"  


"Starving," John said.  


They turned around and headed down the street.  


"Where are we going?" Autumn asked.  


"End of Baker Street, there’s a good Chinese. Stays open ’til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle," Sherlock smiled down at Autumn.  


"I don't wanna know how you know that."  


"Sherlock! That’s him. That’s the man I was talking to you about."  


"Who? Why? What happened?" Autumn's heart started to race.  


"That man getting out of the car kidnapped me," John pointed to Mycroft getting out of the black car with tinted windows.  


"Oh, h-him," Autumn said. "He looks harmless."  


"I know exactly who that is," Sherlock said.  


"Maybe we should leave him alone," Autumn grabbed onto Sherlock's coat sleeve. He pulled away.  


"So, another case cracked," Mycroft said with a grin. "How very public spirited ... though that’s never really your motivation, is it?"  


"What are you doing here?"  


"As ever, I’m concerned about you."  


"Yes, I’ve been hearing about your concern."  


"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?  


"Oddly enough, no!"  


"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy."  


John gives Autumn a look of disbelief. Autumn shrugged. It took everything in her to act neutral.  


"I upset her? Me? It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft."  


"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who’s Mummy?" John looked up at Sherlock.  


"Mother. Our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft.  


"Putting on weight again?" Sherlock teased his brother.  


"Losing it, in fact," Mycroft grinned.  


"He’s your brother?!" John was still in disbelief.  


"Of course he’s my brother."  


"So he’s not ..."  


"Not what?"  


Both Sherlock and Mycroft stare at John.  


"I dunno – criminal mastermind?"  


"Close enough," Sherlock says.  


"For goodness’ sake." Mycroft rolls his eyes. "I occupy a minor position in the British government."  


"He is the British government, when he’s not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis."  


Mycroft sighed.  


"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic."  


Sherlock walked away leaving Autumn and John standing with Mycroft.  


"So, when you say you’re concerned about him, you actually are concerned?" John was still shocked.  


"Yes, of course." Mycroft glanced down at Autumn and she had to look away.  


"I mean, it actually is a childish feud?"  


"He’s always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners."  


"Yeah ... no," John said. "I-I’d better, um ..."  


"We should go!" Autumn said.  


"Yes we...um," John got distracted by Anthea.  
"Hello again."  


She smiled at him. "Hello."  


"Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening."  


Anthea looked up at him. "Oh?"  


"Okay, good night,"  


"Good night, Doctor Watson," Mycroft said, and he turned to Autumn. "And you?"  


"Oh...um Miss. Grace."  


"Good night Miss. Grace."  


"N-Night."  


John and Autumn caught up with Sherlock.  


"Dim sum?" John smiled.  


"Mmm!" Sherlock agreed. "I can always predict the fortune cookies."  


"No you can’t."  


"I wouldn't be surprised if he could," Autumn said.  


"Almost can. You did get shot, though," Sherlock said to John.  


"Sorry?"  


"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound."  


"Oh, yeah. Shoulder."  


"Shoulder! I thought so."  


"No you didn’t."  


"The left one."  


"Lucky guess."  


"I never guess."  


"Yes you do."  


"What about me?" Autumn said. "Where have I been wounded?"  


Sherlock grew very serious and his gazed travelled over Autumn.  


John cleared his throat. "Perhaps this isn't the best idea."  


Sherlock smiled. "Maybe John is right."  


"Where have you been wounded? Can I guess?" Autumn grew very sympathetic.  


"I wasn't wounded. John. John saved me, remember?"  


"Yes, I guess he did," Autumn said.  


They started to walk down the street.  


Sherlock grinned and John noticed.  


"What are you so happy about?" John furrowed his brow.  


"I was thinking," Sherlock said.  


"About what?"  


"Moriarty,"  


***  


Autumn's calves burned with pain, and sweat dripped down her forehead. She wiped the perspiration from her head with the back of her hand and kept on jogging.  


Music pounded from her earphones and into her ears. She had her IPhone attached to a holder wrapped around her arm, and her playlist was on shuffle.  


Once she returned to Baker Street from her late night run she bounded up the stairs. Autumn was dehydrated and desperate for a glass of water.  


The music continued to blare pound in her ears as she raced up stairs. She walked into the living room. A bullet whizzed by her, right in front of her stomach--it missed her by less than an inch.  


She felt her heart stop in her chest for a moment and then it pounded with wild abandon.  


"Autumn!" She heard Sherlock yell her name.  


She swallowed hard, took her earphones out, and unstrapped her phone form her arm. It fell to the floor with a thud.  


"Autumn," Sherlock whispered in horror. "I was...bored."  


Autumn didn't look to the wall, then to Sherlock, and didn't say a word. He held a gun in his hand.  


"Autumn, are you alright?"  


Her body felt cold and her legs felt like liquid. She walked over to the wall and picked the bullet out of the wall. Autumn allowed the bullet to fall from her shaking hand.  


"I didn't hear you come in," he said.  


Autumn clasped her hand over her mouth and started sobbing as she collapsed to the floor.  


Sherlock put the gun down on the table and rushed over to Autumn. He knelt down beside her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  


"Are you hurt?" His blue eyes bore into hers.  


"N-No. I...I am fine," she managed to say. "I almost died.  


"I am sorry. I didn't hear you come in--I was aiming for the wall. I am so sorry."  


Autumn wiped her tears from her face. "I guess I deserve that. This is pretty much my fault."  


"How is this your fault?" Sherlock squeezed her shoulders. "You didn't do anything wrong."  


Autumn tried to stand up, but her legs almost gave out beneath her.  


"I am going to call an ambulance."  


"No. I am fine. Please, just help me up."  


Sherlock wrapped his arm around her and helped her stand.  


"Wait here. I will be right back."  


Autumn headed up to her room and returned a few minutes later.  


She dropped a small bag filled with white powder onto the table. "I suppose if you couldn't shoot up, you need to shoot the wall. You need another way to alleviate your boredom."  


Sherlock glanced down at the packet. He blinked. "What's that?"  


"You know what it is?" she said gently.  


"Whose is it?"  


"You know it's yours. I took it so Donovan wouldn't find it and you wouldn't get into trouble. So you're welcome."  


Sherlock sat down on his chair and steepled his hands under his chin. "Why would you do that?"  


"I didn't want you to go to jail."  


"Why? You don't even know me. Why would you care?"  


"I might know more than you think."  


He smiled, but it was a cold one. "I doubt that."  


"The letter that your mother sent you isn't in the trash anymore, but the rest of the garbage is still in the waste bin."  


"So?" Sherlock shrugged.  


"You opened it, taped it back together, and you read it. Now you want to get high."  


"I am a user. Not an addict. I only need it when there are no cases, and my mind tears itself apart. I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."  


"You never get over your an addiction you just replace it with something else, is that what you are trying to say? I don't believe that."  


"Right. Okay then, Miss. Grace, what do you believe?"  


"You need this," she picked up the small bag, "to numb yourself, to forget something."  


"What would I need to forget?"  


"You tell me," she whispered.  


"I haven't been using. I cam clean. Just like I told Lestrade."  


"Show me."  


He rolled his eyes lifted up the sleeve of his dressing gown, only to reveal nicotine patches placed over his white skin.  


"You use whenever you feel sad and you feel sad a lot..." With gentleness she grabbed his wrist with one hand and pealed back the patches with her other hand. Purple track marks were hidden under the patches. "I know you do, I can feel it."  


"What do you want from me?" He pulled his hand away. 

  


"You need to talk about it," Autumn whispered.  


"About what?"  


"About letting yourself feel."  


"I can't!"  


"Why not?"  


"Because it hurts too much!"  


Bam! There was an explosion. Debris went everywhere and a car horn could be heard echoing in the distance.


	2. Bury The Feeling

***  
Sherlock and Autumn were far enough away from the windows that they suffered little from the explosion.

Sherlock called Mycroft and had within hours Mycroft had his people over to clean up the flat.

Autumn came back from an early morning walk to find Mycroft and Sherlock sitting in the living room.

"Ah, and there she is now, my minder." Sherlock sat in his chair with his with his violin and bow in his hands. 

Autumn felt a chill run down her spine, she looked to Mycroft for guidance. 

Mycroft furrowed his brow and shook his head. "How did you know?" 

"You had your thugs kidnap me so they could test my blood for drugs. The test would have shown positive yet you didn't drag me off to rehab. Why? You already have someone watching me." Sherlock's face remained emotionless and his voice clipped and stern. "Miss. Grace is...what a therapist? You brought her here to help me," Sherlock said then scoffed. 

Mycroft blinked, his features fell and he looked very sad. Autumn could feel Mycfort's sadness melt into her heart. 

"It would have tested positive? Sherlock. You are back on drugs?" 

"Don't act like you didn't know. So what, once your goons had my blood tested you go the results directly to your phone? Or were they delivered on silver platter beside your third piece of cake?" Sherlock grinned. 

"Sherlock. I am not angry." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"I should have known...it's almost the anniversary of..." 

"Don't say it," Sherlock said. 

"Listen, Sherlock, I have no idea what you are talking about. I didn't kidnap you. What exactly happened?" 

"We were almost back home when a van swerved to the side of the curb and men in masked pulled us into the van. The took some of Sherlock's blood and then let us go." 

Mycroft's eyes grew wide. "And you wait till now to tell me this?" 

"I thought this was your doing!" Autumn threw up her hands. 

Sherlock started to play his violin loudly. 

"You new he was on drugs, and you didn't tell me!" 

Sherlock played louder and louder! 

"Mr. Holmes, you hired me to help him. I can't help him if you were to drag him off to one of those typical rehabilitation centres for addicts." 

"Stop!" Sherlock abruptly stopped playing his violin. "I am a user not an addict. So you can stop pretending to be my friend in order to psychoanalyze me Autumn!" 

Autumn could feel Sherlock's anger and it like felt red hot lava under her veins. "Listen, I am your friend." 

"She hasn't cashed any of the cheques I have given her," Mycroft said. 

"How reassuring," Sherlock said. 

"Don't you want to be free?" Autumn said to Sherlock 

"Free? I am free," Sherlock replied. 

"Always being in the need of a high is not freedom. You are a slave to your own mind," Autumn said. 

"Save your therapist nonsense. I am as free as any other man." 

"Okay, but are you happy?" 

"Happiness is just a marketing tool used by companies and the media to sell things. Once you stop searching for happiness half the battle is won." 

"Sherlock, you don't believe that." 

"I do." He narrowed his eyes. "First you believe you can be happy and then you searching for it. And it hurts when you don't find it. Once you believe that nothing you can make you happy, you at least have some peace." 

"Is that what you truly believe, you can't be happy?" 

"I don't want your pity," Sherlock said to Autumn. 

"Sherlock, please...we are trying to help you," Mycroft said. 

"Oh, don't expect me to start pouring out my heart to you--least of all you Mycroft!" 

"Sherlock!" John's voice echoed up the stairs followed by the sound of his foot steps. "Autumn, are you alright?" 

"John," Sherlock said. 

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?" 

"Hmm? What?" He looked around at the boarded up windows. "Yeah, fine gas leak, apparently." 

Autumn toon a seat on the sofa. "We aren't completely fine," Autumn said. 

"What? What's going on?" 

"John, meet my new therapist," Sherlock gestured to Autumn. 

"Phycologist," Autumn said. 

"Sorry what?" John furrowed his brows in confusion. 

"Mycroft hired her to help me," Sherlock said with venom. 

"So you...you are a doctor," John sounded impressed. "Yes." 

"Nice." 

"So...umm you hired her, Mycroft," John said. "Why did you have us kidnapped in that van?" 

"I didn't!" Mycroft snapped.

"Then who did?" 

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "And I don't like not knowing."

"I can raise your security level," Mycroft suggested.

"Don't you dare," Sherlock said.

Mycroft sighed and pressed his head in hand. 

"Anyway, Sherlock. The reason I am here is because of the case," Mycroft said. 

"I can’t," Sherlock said. 

“Can’t?" 

"The stuff I’ve got on is just too big. I can’t spare the time. 

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance," Mycroft said. 

"How’s the diet?" 

"Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him, John." 

"What?" 

"I’m afraid my brother can be very intransigent." 

"If you’re so keen, why don’t you investigate it?" 

Sherlock asked.

"No, no, no, no, no. I can’t possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so ... Well, you don’t need to know about that, do you?" He smiled.

Sherlock plucked the strings on his violin. "How’s Sarah, John? How was the lilo?" 

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." 

"Oh yes, of course." 

"How ...? Oh, never mind." 

Myfroft got up and John took a seat at the edge of the coffee table. 

"Sherlock’s business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals," Mycroft said. 

"It's actually been kind of slow," Autumn murmured, and Sherlock gave her a death glare. 

"Sorry," she said quietly. 

"What’s he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine," Mycroft asked John. 

"I’m never bored," John smiled 

Mycroft smiled. "Good! That’s good, isn’t it?" 

Mycroft stood up and lifted a folder off of the table. He handed the folder to John.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends. A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in." 

"Jumped in front of a train?" John looked down at the files. 

"Seems the logical assumption," Mycroft said.

"Did he leave a sucicide note?" Autumn asked. 

"One has yet to be discovered," Mycroft replied. 

"It couldn't have been a suicide than." Autumn said. "People always leave a note." 

"You are the expert on the more complex emotions. You would know better than I," Mycroft said to Autumn. 

"But ...?" John said. 

“But?" Mycroft asked. 

"Well, you wouldn’t be here if it was just an accident." 

"The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system – the Bruce-Partington Programme, it’s called. The plans for it were on a memory stick." 

"That wasn’t very clever." 

Sherlock smiled. 

"It’s not the only copy," Mycroft said. 

"Oh," John replied. 

"But it is secret. And missing." 

"Top secret?" "Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can’t possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." 

Mycroft turned to his brother. "You’ve got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don’t make me order you." "I’d like to see you try." 

"Think it over." 

Mycroft turned to leave. "Goodbye, John, Autumn."

"Goodbye," Autumn said." 

John stood up and shook Mycroft's hand.

"See you very soon," Mycroft said.

*** 

"Please, please just figure this out so this horrible game can be over," Autumn said, her voice echoed through the museum. Someone was playing a game with Sherlock. 

He would find random victims, strap bombs to them, and Sherlock would have to solve various cases in order for the victims to be set free. 

One victim, an old lady, had already died! Even though Sherlock solved case, she died on a technicality. She started to describe the voice of the man responsible for all of this, so her captor set the bomb off! 

Then there was the dead security guard of the museum who washed up out of the Thames. Sherlock deduced that the man than was murder because he had vital information about a priceless piece of art at the museum where he worked. 

"Are you sure its a fake?" Lestrade said. 

Sherlock stood in front of the Vermeer painting, looking down at his phone. Miss Wenceslas--the owner of the Hickman Gallery stood beside Lestrade, John and Autumn, waiting for Sherlock to respond.

"It’s a fake. It has to be," Sherlock said.

"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science," Miss Wenceslas said.

"It’s a very good fake, then."

"Just like some people," Autumn smiled up at Miss. Wencslas and the woman scowled at her. 

Sherlock spun around to face the woman. "You know about this, don’t you? This is you, isn’t it?" 

Miss Wenceslas turned to Lestrade. "Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?" 

The pink cell phone in Sherlock's pocket made a ding noise. The bomb sent the phone to Sherlock as a means of contact. Sherlock took the cell out of his pocket and answered it. 

"The painting is a fake," Sherlock said. 

Only the sound of laboured breathing could be heard on the other end. 

"Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?" Sherlock said. 

There was a moment of silence and then a little boy started counting. "Ten ..." 

"It’s a kid. Oh, God, it’s a kid!" Lestrade said. Every time the child spoke Autumn felt a chill run down her spine. 

"What did he say?" John asked. 

“Ten," Sherlock said. 

"Nine ..." the boy said. 

Sherlock's eyes raced over the painting frantically. "It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time." 

"I think I am going to be sick," Autumn had to sit on the floor because she felt faint.

"The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How?" Sherlock said.

"Eight ..." 

Sherlock spun around to face Miss. Wenceslas and she flinched. "This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me!"

"Seven ..." 

"No, shut up. Don’t say anything. It only works if I figure it out."

Sherlock spun around to face the painting again.

"Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face." 

"Six ...'

"Six seconds, that boys life could be over in six seconds," Autumn said.

"Woodbridge knew, but how?" 

"Five ..." 

"It’s speeding up!" Lestrade said. 

"He will may never see his parents again, or go camping or get married..." Autumn said, feeling in a daze. Tears were forming in her eyes. "He may never get to see the sun or the moon or the stars or--" 

"Oh!" Sherlock said. "The stars!" 

"Four ..." 

"In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!" 

Sherlock turned and shoved the pink phone into John's hands. He walked away from the painting with a smile on his face and pulled out his own phone from his pocket.

"What’s brilliant? What is?" John said.

"Is anyone else seeing spots," Autumn murmured.

Sherlock walked back toward the painting. "This is beautiful. I love this!" 

"Two ... 

"Sherlock!" Lestrade screamed in anger. 

Sherlock grabbed the pink phone. "The Van Buren Supernova!" 

There was a short pause before the boy spoke again. "Sherlock, you and your friends can come get me at 1017 Livesey drive. C-come quickly." 

"Wait. What. That breaks that pattern," John said. "Why do we have to get him?" 

"I don't like the feeling of this," Autumn stood up with Lestrades help. 

"Perhaps it's a trap," John said. "Sherlock, what do you think?"

Before Sherlock could respond the boy on the phone spoke again. 

"Please, help me..." his voice trembled. 

"Who cares! He needs our help. Let's go!" Lestrade said.

*** 

"Why is he braking the pattern?" Sherlock said as we got out of the police car. 

Lestrade had one of his officers take Miss. Wencenlas in for questioning. He thought it best go along with Sherlock, John and Autumn, to make sure the child was safe. 

"This doesn't feel right," Autumn said as they walked across the parking lot of the old abandoned meat packing warehouse. "Something is wrong." 

When they entered the warehouse they hear screaming and pounding. 

"Help!" 

"Is that..." Autumn turned to Sherlock. "No. It can't." 

"Mycroft!" Sherlock headed for a freezer. 

"Why would they kidnap your brother?" John said. "How did they kidnap him, is the better question." 

The pounding was coming from an old freezer. 

"Mycroft are you in there?" Sherlock pushed on the door, but it wouldn't pudge. 

"Sherlock, help," Myrcoft said. 

"Move aside," John pushed Sherlock out of the way. 

"Mycroft stand away from the door." 

"Maybe we should call the police!" Autumn said. 

"I am the police," Lestrade said, somewhat insulted. 

John rammed his shoulder into the door and it burst open. 

They all ran into the out of use freezer to make sure Mycroft was okay. 

He was sitting on the floor with his blazer and tie off, and thrown to the ground. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and his umbrella was neatly leaning up against the wall. 

"What happened?" Lestrade helped Mycroft up. 

Mycroft stood up and reached into the pocket of his pants to pull out his phone. 

"I got this text and I thought it was from you," Mycfort said to Sherlock, handing him his phone. 

The text read: I didn't make a list this time. Pls help. 1017 Livesey Dr. 

Sherlock handed the phone back to Mycroft. "How did you get locked in?" 

"The door shut behind me," Mycroft replied. 

"Wait, so where is the kid?" John asked. 

"What kid?" Mycroft looked to Sherlock for answers. Suddenly Lestrade's phone ran. He reached into his pocket to answer it. 

"D.I. Lestrade speaking." 

"It's Sally. I thought you were going to get the boy?" 

"I was." 

"Well, someone just dropped him off at the station. We are taking him to the hospital to make sure he is alright. 

"Ummm...ok. Thanks." 

"When will you be back?" 

"Soon." 

"Ok, the less time you spend with the freak, the better." 

He hung up and put his phone in his pocket. "That was Sally she said the boy is at the station." 

Autumn wondered across the room to where a small treasure chest sat discretely in the corner. It was looked with a combination lock. 

Ding! The pink phone went off and Sherlock pulled it from his pocket. 

"What now?" John said. 

"It's...a riddle of some sort. Two wrongs don't make a right." 

"Two wrongs don't make a right." Autumn's hands shook as she reached for the combination lock. She turned the combination lock to the the right two times, and then one more time, stopping at the number two. 

Autumn opened the treasure chest to reveal a ticking bomb in side! 

"Guys!" 

Mycroft was arguing with Sherlock over the meaning of the words. 

"Sherlock!" 

"The is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Sherlock was saying to Mycroft. 

"Sherlock. I am the smart one," Mycroft replied. 

"Sherlock!" Autumn couldn't take her eyes off of the ticking bomb. 

"Yes, yes, Autumn! We get it! You feel so much and your heart bleeds for the world. But we are busy right now." 

"Hey, what are looking at?" John walked over to the corner of the room. 

"Sherlock," John said in horror. 

Suddenly the door behind them slammed shut. 

"That didn't close on its own," Lestrade said as he went to the door and pushed and pulled on knob. "We are stuck. It's locked." 

"Sherlock. It's a bomb!" John knelt down beside Autumn. 

Mycroft walked over and knelt down to examine it. "Well, that is rather unfortunate." 

"How long?" Lestrade asked. "How long do we have?" 

"Twenty minutes," John said, getting to his feet. 

Lestrade pulled out his phone. "I don't have any reception!" 

"That's because the door is closed now," Mycroft said. 

Sherlock leaned over and examined the bomb. "There is no off button! Why is there no off button?" 

"Sherlock, do you recall that experiment we did on roses and sunflowers?" Mycroft sat back down on the floor again. He let his back rest against the wall, letting his umbrella slide to the ground beside him. "The were both mummy's favourite flowers and we wanted to crossbreed them for her. I still remember the innocent joy on your face as you came up with the idea." 

Sherlock looked down at Mycroft. "What am I supposed to say to that?" 

"You were so...happy as a kid. Running around with Redbeard, playing pirates. You used to call me 'My' and I was your first mate. Do you remember that?" 

"Ummm...I know it's nice to go down memory lane but don't you think we have other things to worry about? Like the bomb that is going to incinerate us in less than half an hour?" Lestrade took his coat off and threw it to the ground. The old freezer was getting hot now that it no longer worked. 

"Yes, you two are the smartest people in the world," John said to Mycroft and Sherlock. "You have to be able to turn this off!" 

Mycroft ignored John. "Sherlock, you were such a happy little boy. You were so affectionate and so excited to experience life." 

"Oh my gosh..." Autumn slowly moved away from the bomb and leaned up against the wall across from Mycroft. "There is no way. There's no way to shut it off? That's why you don't care," her voice shook in horror. 

"There has to be a way!" John kept examining the treasure chest with the bomb in it. Lestrade paced back and forth with his phone in his hand trying to get reception.

"Sherlock," Mycroft said. "Do you remember? Do you remember when you used to...you used to look up to me?" Suddenly Mycroft broke down sobbing into his hands. 

Sherlock just blinked and said nothing. Lestrade stopped his pacing and glanced down at Mycroft. Even John stopped his frantic examination of the bomb once Mycroft started crying. 

"I am sorry...I am so sorry, Sherlock. I destroyed you. I know I did. It doesn't matter how much I have accomplished in life I failed at the one thing that was most important to me, and that was being a good brother to you." 

"Stop this," Sherlock said. "Stop." 

"No. Sherlock. No, I only have twenty minutes left with you, and I need to say this, okay." 

Sherlock swallowed hard. "When I held you in my arms...when you were first born I vowed that I would be the best big brother. I promised that you would never feel alone, like I did growing up. I promised that I wouldn't let anyone bully you. I vowed to protect you." 

Sherlock stood very still, he eyes filled with tears. 

"I promised that I would protect you from the world. I failed. I failed because I made you hate yourself. It's terrible to make someone afraid of the world, but it's unforgivable to make them afraid of their own mind--their own heart." 

"Then why did you shut me out?" Sherlock said through gritted teeth. "All I wanted was my big brother and you pushed me away!" 

"I am sorry, Sherlock. I remember when you were little and you that such a light in your eyes. Now I look at you and that light is gone. I am sorry. I am so sorry. Forgive me?" 

Sherlock clenched his hands into fists. "Forgive you? You pushed me away when I needed you the most!" 

"I was kid too, Sherlock. I was grieving. I loved Sherrinford too. The grief nearly killed me when he died. I didn't know how to help you when I couldn't even help myself. And when I started to heal I was afraid to let you back in. I didn't want to care anymore, I couldn't let myself hurt like that again." 

"But you left me with my pain! You let me grieve alone," Sherlock's voice shook and tears started to pour from the corners his eyes. 

"You had mummy and daddy. They were there for you. You could relate to them on deeper emotional level than I ever could." 

"But I couldn't find true comfort in them. How could I when I killed their son?" 

"Wait what?" Lestrade said. 

"We need to stop talking about this," Sherlock said. 

Mycroft shook his head. "Sherlock, I hate to hear you blame yourself. You were just a little boy." 

"I knew better! I knew what I was doing was wrong, and that I was putting us in danger. And I hate myself everyday for what I did back then." 

"You need to tell your parents," Autumn whispered.

Sherlock glared at Mycroct. "You told her!" 

"Do we have to do this now?" John sat down on the floor and took his jacket off. "What is this anyway? What are you talking about?" 

"We are talking about how I failed Sherlock," Mycroft smiled sadly. 

Lestrade finally gave up trying to find cell service and took a seat on the ground as well. 

"How could you tell her," Sherlock pointed at Autumn. "She is a stranger. You had no right." 

"I needed to tell her, Sherlock. She needed to know everything in order to be able to help you," Mycroft whispered, tears forming in his eyes again. "I know that it is my fault you are like this. I know I broke you, and I am sorry. I want to make it right." 

"You had a chance to all those years ago, right after he died, and I didn't have the courage to tell mummy and daddy what happened. I asked you to and you wouldn't tell them for me. So I buried the pain. I learned to deal with it." 

"I didn't want you to tell them because I didn't want people to associate drugs with the Holmes family. Mummy and daddy's reputation were at stake. You were just about to get into a prestigious school. I didn't want to ruin your chances, I didn't want you ruin your potential. Sherrinford wouldn't want you to miss out on all the opportunities you could have had." 

"No! This was about you," Sherlock's voice trembled. "It's always been about you wanting to be the best! You didn't want to have a bad reputation so you made me lie to mummy and daddy. You made be bury that pain and guilt all these years till I couldn't feel anything anymore!" 

"Sherlock, please--" Mycroft said. 

"No! I buried it until I couldn't feel anything. Do you know how terrifying that is? To feel nothing? I thought I was a monster. Do you understand what this secret has done to me? I have to shoot up just feel something, or to forget the pain!" 

Tears silently fell down Mycroft's face. "Sherlock, I am so sorry..." he whispered. "Sherlock, mummy was suffering from depression. She wasn't in the right mental state to accept what happened. We couldn't tell her the truth. She would have blamed herself. Do you know what that would have done to her?" 

Sherlock shook his head. "No! This was about you and your reputation. You made me suffer so the Holmes name would remain spotless. Well, that backfired on you didn't it? How many times did you find me drugged out of my mind in an alleyway somewhere? And that all could have been avoided if you had just let me tell the truth!" 

"Well, nothing matters now, does it?" Lestrade said. He had been quiet for some time. "Because there is a ticking time bomb right beside us, and the two smartest people in the world are wasting time arguing instead of trying to disarm it!" 

"There is no way to disarm it," Mycroft said, leaning his head back against the wall. 

"I don't want to die here, especially with you of all people," Sherlock said to Mycroft. 

"Stop it! Stop!" Mycroft said. "I love you, Sherlock." 

Sherlock scoffed. 

"I do. You are my baby brother of course I love you. I didn't want mummy and daddy to send you away." 

"What?" 

"They were talking about sending you to a place for children with mental disorders, if they found out what really happened to Sherrinford they would have sent you." Mycroft started to silently sob into his hand. "I already lost one brother, I couldn't lose you too. I didn't want them to send you away. I loved you and I didn't want to be alone. I was selfish, okay. We are very different. You feel more than me and I forgot what living with this sort of secret would do to you." 

"You are lying! Mummy would never send me away." 

"She didn't want to. She was worried about you, and she was afraid--oh she was so afraid that you would suffer from depression like her, and that you wouldn't be able to control your mind, like Sherrinford."

"You have another brother, Sherrinford?" John said. "Had," Sherlock said. "He is dead."

Beep. Beep. Beep. The bomb started to make make noises. 

"We are all going to die," Autumn leaned over the bomb as it counted down. She closed her eyes and waited.

Minutes passed. 

"Nothing," Lestrade said. 

Autumn looked down at the bomb. "It stopped at 04:05. It's just blinking."

"04:05," Sherlock whispered, as he glanced down at the bomb. 

"Yes, there is no bomb," Mycroft said, wiping his face with the back of his head.

"What?" John said in disbelief and almost anger. 

"That looks like a bomb to me," Lestrade said. 

"It's fake. It's nothing but a timer," Mycroft said. 

"Why did you lie?" Autumn asked. 

"Because, this is the only way Sherlock would talk about the past," Mycfort said. 

"You set this up?" Sherlock said, looking enraged. 

"What? The fake bomb? No. I didn't. But I used the opportunity as a way to finally talk with you about this, Sherlock. Please...forgive me?" Mycroft stood up. 

"You weren't there when I needed you the most. You are my big brother. I loved...I loved you so much as a kid. I wanted to be just like you and then you pushed me away. You taught me that caring is not an advantage. So guess what? Lessoned learned. I don't care." 

The door suddenly drifted open. 

Sherlock headed for the door, but before he could go Mycroft grabbed onto his arm. 

"Let me go," Sherlock said. 

"Sherlock please, don't do this!" He grabbed onto Sherlock's shoulders. "Listen, when I got that text today, telling me to come here, I thought...I thought I was going to find you dead. It terrified me and I realized that we needed to have this talk. So please...please talk to me." 

"Are you done?" 

He grip tightened. "Promise me?" 

Sherlock yanked his arm free.

"Promise me!" 

Sherlock stormed out the freezer. 

"You need to find him, and stay with him." Mycroft said to John, Autumn, and Lestrade. "It's going to be a danger night." 


	3. Feelings From the Past

Autumn received a text from John:

I found Sherlock. He seems fine. We are investigating the missing Bruce Partington plans. 

Autumn replied: 

Good. I checked the flat. 

It's clean. 

John:

Maybe Mycroft was wrong about 

it being a danger night 

Autumn:

I don't know. I am still worried. 

Autumn sighed and placed her phone in her pocket. She had been searching the city for Sherlock with the help of Lestrade. They couldn't find Sherlock, and Lestrade had to get back to the station to question Miss. Wenceslas. 

Autumn was alone at Baker Street. She made herself a cup of tea and headed up stairs to her room. 

Mycroft was investigating into who kidnapped Sherlock for his blood, and who lead them to the warehouse. He thought it was connected. 

Autumn reclined on her bed with her phone and read the email Mycroft had sent her. 

There was a CCTV photo of the white van, and the men dragging them into it. 

A screen shot of the text Mycroft got, assuming to be from Sherlock. However, further investigation showed it turned out to be from a burner phone and couldn't be traced. 

Mycroft included a map of the warehouse that indicated all the entrances and exits, as well as the freezer they were trapped in. 

There were also several photos of the fake bomb at different angles. 

Autumn scrolled to the bottom of the email to find that Mycroft had written a message:

Give this to Sherlock to investigate. It might keep his mind busy and keep him off the drugs.

Autumn scrolled through the file again and again. 

She read the text Mycroft received:

I didn't make a list this time. Pls help. 1017 Livesey Dr.

The text seemed odd. Obviously because it really wasn't from Sherlock. But if sender wanted to deceive Mycroft into believing it was Sherlock, why wouldn't the sender make it more believable. Sherlock never used short form. 

"Livesey Drive," Autumn whispered. "Oh my gosh. Dr. Livesey, like in Treasure Island. And the bomb was in a treasure chest! The bomb!"

She scrolled up to the photo of the fake bomb, and the timer had stopped at 04:05.

"Zero, four, zero five. April fith. The day Sherrinford died," Autumn whispered and a chill ran down her spine.

Bam! Autumn nearly jumped out of her skin. She relaxed when she just realized someone had opened and closed the front door.

"Autumn!" John called. 

She got up and headed downstairs to the living room. Sherlock was sitting up on his chair with his coat still on and his feet up on the seat. John sat at the table pecking away on the computer. 

"Sherlock, you okay?" 

"Am I ok? Of course I am ok. Why wouldn't I be okay?" He didn't take his eyes off of the tv. 

Autumn looked to John for answers. 

"Did you get the plans?" 

"Yes. We did," John answered. 

"No, no, no! Of course he’s not the boy’s father!" Sherlock yelled at the tv. "Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!" 

"Knew it was dangerous," John said to Sherlock. 

"Hmm?" 

"Getting you into crap telly." 

"Hmm. Not a patch on Connie Prince." 

Autumn took a seat in John's chair in front of the tv and Sherlock gave her a weary look. 

"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" John asked. 

"Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood – again," Sherlock said. 

"Really? He didn't mention any of that when he emailed me." 

"You too still spying on me then." 

"You know, I’m still waiting," John said to Sherlock. 

"Hmm?" 

"For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you’d have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker." 

"What do you mean?" Autumn said.

"Oh, Sherlock deleted all knowledge he had of the solar system," John said. 

"What!" 

Sherlock ignored Autumn and addressed John, "Didn’t do you any good, did it?" 

"No, but I’m not the world’s only consulting detective." 

"True," Sherlock smiled. 

John closed the top of his laptop with a click. 

"I was going to go to Sarah’s. But I canceled my plans. Umm... I can get some take away from Angelo's" 

"Mm!" Sherlock said, his eyes still fixed on the tv. 

"But we really need groceries," Autumn said. "We are running out of tea." 

"Uh, milk. We need milk," John added. 

"I’ll get some tomorrow," Sherlock said.

"Really?!" 

"Yeah, really?" Autumn said.

"Really," Sherlock said, 

"And some beans, then?" John asked. 

Sherlock's eyes were glued to the tv "Mm." 

"Ok, I will go and get the take away for tonight then." John hesitated for a second before heading out the door.

Sherlock continued to gaze at the TV. Suddenly he picked up his lap top from where it was tucked down beside him.

"Sherlock, I need to talk to you about something."

"Not now." He placed the lap top on his lap and started typing.

"Sherlock, it has to do with Sherrinford."

Sherlock froze and glance over the screen at Autumn. 

"Levsey drive. Doctor Levsey, just like in Treasure Island. The timer of the fake bomb stopped at zero four zero five. April fifth, the day Sherrinford died. The fake bomb was in a treasure chest..." 

"I know." 

"You know? Sherlock." 

"Yes. But what is amazing is that Mycroft didn't fail to deluge everything from my childhood to you." 

He slammed the laptop shut and placed in on his chair before getting up.

"Where are you going?"

"To buy milk, remember?" 

"You said you would do that tomorrow." She jumped up and grabbed onto his arm. 

"No time like the present," he said.

"Don't you want to wait? John is bringing the food. He will be back soon." 

"Is this what you two planned? To keep me at home and watch me like a child?" He yanked his arm free and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Autumn texted Mycroft: 

Sherlock left. Alone. Watch him. 

*** 

Ding! Ding! Knock! Knock! 

Autumn was watching tv when she heard someone at door downstairs. 

"Sherlock, I swear, if you lost your key again," she mumbled. 

Autumn ran downstairs and opened the front door. There stood an seventeen your old girl with dark curly hair and electric blue eyes. She had one hand clutched to crook in her elbow. 

"Umm hi, can I help you?" Autumn said. 

"Yes. Please...please help me," she lifted her hand to reveal the crook of her elbow. She was bleeding and the skin was purple and blue.

"Who are you? What happened."

"The van...it came out of no where..." all of a sudden she fell forward.

"Careful." Autumn grabbed onto her and steady her down to the floor.

"What's going on?" Sherlock said, he stood in the doorway with and John beside him. 

"John, where have you been!" 

"Sorry. Was busy almost getting blown up at a pool!" 

"What?" 

The girl on the floor whimpered.

"Who is she?" Sherlock said.

"I don't know. She knocked on our door and then fainted. I think it's because she had blood drawn and her blood sugar is low." 

"Help me get her up the stairs," John said. 

Sherlock and John carried the young lady up the stairs and laid her on the sofa. 

John knelt over her and lifted her eyelids, looking into her eyes. He then placed his fingers on the pulse point on her neck.

"She didn't give you her name?"

"No." Autumn said from the kitchen. She poured a tall glass of orange juice and brought it to John.

"Where is the food?" 

Sherlock stood over by the window, looking out onto the street. "Sorry, Moriarty almost blew us up. Being killed usually stunts one appetite." 

"What do you mean?"

"Wh-wh..." the young girl slurred her words.

"You are at 221 B Baker Street," John said. He handed her the glass of juice. "Here. Sip this."

She took the glass with trembling hands and sipped the juice. "Thank you," she said.

Autumn grabbed the young girl's hands. "Dear, what is your name?"

"Natalia," she said.

"Natalia, why did you come here? What happened to you?" 

"Someone has been following me for the past week." 

"What changed?" Sherlock said. "What made you decide to come here at midnight?" 

"I was on my way home from work when a white van pulled up to the side of the street. They pulled me in and took a sample of my blood. I heard about your blog, Dr. Watson. So I came here straight away. I thought you could help me." She started to tear up. "Please, help me." 


	4. A List of Feelings

"Why don't you want her to stay here, John?" Autumn whispered?

"I don't know if it's a...healthy idea," John whispered to Autumn. 

"Why?" 

It was noon now and Natalia was still asleep on the sofa. Most of her body was wrapped in blanket, but her arm dangled over the edge sofa 

John walked over and rolled up her shirt sleeve to reveal track marks. 

"No," Autumn whispered. 

"Do you think it is a good idea for two addicts to be around each other?" 

Sherlock's door opened and he walked out into the living room. At the sound of the door Natalia started to wake up. 

"John, make her some coffee," Sherlock said as he took a seat in his chair. He steepled his hands under his chin and watched Natalia stretch and take in her surroundings. 

"Is there a please?" John said. 

Sherlock didn't answer. 

Autumn took a seat at the edge of the coffee table, facing the sofa. 

"Oh, so it's not a dream," Natalia said a she sat up.

"You are an orphan," Sherlock said. 

"Yes." 

"How many foster homes?" 

"Lost count," she said. 

"The foster families don't like you." 

"No." She shrugged. "I finally found one that somewhat tolerated me. But most of them sent me back into the system because they thought I was crazy. And I think I am...a little crazy that is." 

"Ah, then you will fit right in," John walked from the kitchen and into the living room. He handed her a cup of coffee before check her pulse on her wrist. "You have some nasty bruises on your arms." 

She sipped the coffee. "Yeah, some of them are because of me." 

John took a seat beside her on the sofa. "And the others?" 

"They aren't because of me." She clutched the coffee mug. 

"You should tell someone," Autumn said. 

"Then I will just get moved around again. And I have gone from family to family all my life. I am tired of it." 

"Tell me about your case," Sherlock said. 

"I was walking home from the Redbeard pub. I clean dishes there, nothing special. Every time I would leave there would be a man in a hoodie across the street. I thought it was a coincidence until last night." 

"What happened?" Autumn said. 

"The man with the hoodie wasn't there, but a van started following me. They pulled me in and took my blood, but I don't know why." 

"How did you get your job?" 

"Sorry, I just told you that I was kidnapped and you are interested in how I got a job doing dishes?" 

"Yes, how did you get it?" 

"The family I am staying with, I was walking their dog when a man came up to me and said they were hiring down at the pub. I applied and I got it." Natalia shrugged. 

"You need to stay here," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, is that a good idea?" John said. "I mean wont her family wonder where she is?" 

"They aren't my family! My father died in an accident and my mother overdosed. I have never had a family. They wont care where I am. I could say I am at a friends." 

"You sure you will be comfortable here?" Autumn said. "We recently had a bomb go off across the street." 

"If you don't me here just say it! Stop acting like my leaving is for my benefit. Trust me I know when I am not wanted and I am used to it." Natalia stood up and slammed the coffee down on the table. 

"No. It's not that," Autumn said, placing her hands on Natalia's shoulders. 

"They're concerned," Sherlock said. "It seems we share the same habits." 

"I don't understand?" Natalia said. 

Sherlock rolled up his sleeve to reveal track marks up his arm. 

"Never on a case," John said, shaking his head in sadness. "You promised! Never on a case." 

"I wont be a bad influence," Natalia said. "I promise." 

"If you want to shower the bathroom is down the hall," Sherlock said to Natalia. "Later you can go shopping with Autumn. Take my card." 

"Why? Why would you do that?" Natalia eyed Sherlock suspiciously. 

"You will need new clothes, wont you? The ones you are wearing are falling apart." 

"Yes. It's just...no one has been so kind to me before. Thank you," she said and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. A minute later they could hear the sound of the shower running. 

There was a knock on the door. Sherlock got up and opened it. 

"I hope it's not a bad time," Mycroft stood in the doorway holding his umbrella. 

Sherlock went to slam the door in his face but Mycroft put his foot in the way. 

"Please," Mycroft said gently. "Give me two minutes." 

Sherlock walked form the door and allowed his brother to enter. 

"You have a guest." Mycroft glanced down at the blanket on the sofa. 

"Yes," John said. "A client actually." 

"A it must be...cozy in here. All of you stuffed like sardines into one flat." 

"Are you here because of what Moriarty did at the pool?" Autumn asked. 

"Actually, no. We haven't heard anything from him in some time." 

"I don't if that's better or worse," Autumn said. "Its like when a shark goes under the water and you can't see their fin anymore." 

Mycroft smiled. "Hmmm poetic." 

"Why are you here, Mycroft?" Sherlock sat down in his chair. 

"I came to give you a gift," Mycroft reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. "I thought it might help you if you could see things from my perspective." 

Sherlock glanced down at the notebook, but didn't take it. 

"It has everything, Sherlock. Every list. Everything about you that's ever mattered to me, and trust me, that's a great deal of things." 

"Wait. List?" John looked to Mycroft for answers. "What list?" 

"We have a deal my brother and I. He would always right a list of everything he has taken. That way if he overdoses--" 

"This was your idea, wasn't it!" Sherlock asked Autumn. 

"It could help you," she said. 

"I don't need your help!" 

"Yes, you do. That's why you didn't send Autumn away. You want her her to help you." Mycroft reached out and took Sherlock's hand. He pressed the notebook into his brother's palm and closed fingers around it. "Please, Sherlock. Read it." 

"If that's all you can go now," Sherlock said. 

"Listen to him," John said. "He wants to help. We want to help." 

"On the fifth...you should come to the memorial. You should tell mummy and daddy what happened." 

"Have you lost your mind!" Sherlock threw the notebook onto his chair. 

Mycroft grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders. "What do you think will happen, Sherlock? They love you." 

"And then they will hate me," Sherlock's voice trembled. "I am already hated by most people I can't be hated by my own parents too."

"Sherlock, your parents wouldn't hate you," Autumn said. 

"Of course they would!" 

Mycroft's grip on Sherlock's shoulders grew tighter as he brother tried to pull away. "Sherlock when you were born mummy and daddy adored you. Sherrinford loved you and I do too. You don't realize it but when you pout or sulk or furrow your brow I see that same little four year old that I loved." 

"Mycroft! What's gotten into you?" Sherlock pulled away from his brother in disgust. "Since when have you become sentimental?" 

"You should tell him," Autumn said to Mycroft. 

He gave her the glare of death. 

"Tell me what?" Sherlock said. 

"Nothing." 

"Withdrawal," John said. 

"Sorry, what?" Mycroft asked. "You don't want to go through the withdrawal," John said to Sherlock. "So you are keeping yourself high...all the time." 

"Of course I don't want to go through withdrawal. No one does!" 

"Sherlock, there is medication we can give you to make the come down easier." 

Sherlock placed his hand in his head. "Would you all shut up and stop acting like you know me." 

"It's not just normal symptoms of withdrawal that you suffer, is it?" Autumn said. 

"Normal." He scoffed. "Why would I be normal." 

"Tell us Sherlock," Mycroft said. "Tell us so we can help you." 

Sherlock smiled and reached down on his chair to pick up the notebook. "So, you said every list is in here right. Great. Thank you, Mycroft, it's just like a receipt book of all my favourites." 

"Stop this Sherlock," Mycroft said through gritted teeth. 

Sherlock flipped through the notebook. "Oh, looky here. The list from the two thousand and ten. Ah. This was a good one." 

Myfcroft slapped Sherlock in the face. Sherlock blinked and looked stunned. 

"Don't you dare, Sherlock. Don't you dare make a joke of everything I suffered for you. I held you in those awful alleyways and doss houses. My heart was breaking in my chest because your were shaking or unconscious, or vomiting and you wouldn't stop! It was nightmare. I thought you were going to die in my arms! Do you know what that's like?" 

"Yes," Sherlock hissed. "Yes I do. Because Sherrinford actually died in my arms." 

Suddenly the sound of footsteps could be heard bounding up the stairs. It was Lestrade and he was out of breath. 

"We had a call come in. Someone witnessed an old lady being pulled into a white van. The bystander took a photo on their phone." 

"And?" Sherlock shrugged. 

"It was Mrs. Hudson." 

"Are you sure?" John asked. 

"Yes. And I just found this taped to your front door." 

Lestrade reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a treasure map with a note attached to it. 

Sherlock tore the map from Lestrade's hands and read it: 

If you want your treasure of a house keeper back follow the map. But you better hurry because like most treasure, she's buried. 


	5. Feeling Pity

They all piled into Lestrade's police car. Sherlock sat in the passenger's seat beside Lestrade. Autumn sat in the back with John on her left and Mycroft on her right.

"This map is from the seventeen hundreds! How are we supposed to know where everything is located now?" Autumn looked down at the dirty brown map. 

"Turn left," Sherlock said. His voice monotone, he seemed unaffected. 

"How do you know?" Lestrade said. 

"We could be going the wrong way," John said. "Shouldn't we stop and get ourselves organized." 

"Yes John, lets have tea and discuss what to do next while our landlady suffocates." 

"Trust Sherlock," Mycroft said. "He knows where he is going." 

Soon they arrived at on old children's play ground that was under construction. 

The play set look like a giant plastic pirate ship, but half of it was being torn down and remodelled. 

Yellow tape and orange pylons surrounded the abandoned work area. 

Sherlock ducted under the tape and headed for a mound of sand in the centre of the park. It had a giant red 'X' on it. 

"Oh no," Autumn whispered. 

"Now this place really brings back lots of memories," Mycroft said. 

"Hurry up," Lestrade said. 

"Grab a shovel!" Sherlock ran to the side of the construction sight and grabbed a shovel the workers had left. 

"Where is everyone?" Autumn took a shovel and started to frantically dig with Sherlock and Lestrade. 

"Government probably cut the funding," John said, looking at Mycroft. 

"Possibly," Mycroft said. He took his coat off and threw it to the floor before grabbing a small shovel. 

It took a moment but John found an abandoned shovel under a plastic slide. 

They kept digging until the reached a oakwood coffin.

Sherlock tore open the coffin. 

"What the..." John said. 

Inside the coffin was a plush toy of an Irish Setter. A note was attacked to it, it read: 

I can make you forget. 

"What? Does that mean we are too late?" Lestrade said. 

"We have to go back," Sherlock said. 

"Back where?" John wiped away the sweat from his brow with his hand. 

"To where this map came from," Mycroft said. 

*** 

"A museum," Autumn said. 

"This brings back memories," Mycroft said. 

They all got of out Lestrade's car. 

"Boss, what are you doing here?" Donovan said. "And more importantly what is the freak doing here? It's only a stolen map, surely we can handle that!" 

"I am sorry who were you referring to as the freak, as you so eloquently put it?" Mycroft said to Donovan. "Because anyone who values their job surely wouldn't be calling my brother a freak, now would they?" 

"This is Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother," John said with smile. 

All of Donovan's features fell. "I umm..." 

"What's happened?" Sherlock said as he headed up the stairs to the Newmont historical museum. Sherlock's father donated to the museum, and their was a wing named after Sherrinford. 

"Some old map was stolen and a note left in its place," Donovan said. 

"Show me," Sherlock said. 

They all rushed passed the yellow police tape and headed inside to the glass display case where the map once was. 

The glass was broken and inside the case was an envelope that reacted of lilac. 

Sherlock remained frozen in his spot. 

"Oh no," Mycroft whispered and shook his head. 

Autumn reached into the case, careful of the glass, and took the envelope. 

"Hey, that's police evidence!" Donovan said. 

"Here, we will make an exchange," Autumn reached into the pocket of her black jacket and handed her the map. 

"How did you get this?" Donovan. "Why am I not surprised that the fre--Sherlock's friend should have stolen property." 

"They didn't steal it," Lestrade said. 

"Ok. Someone needs to explain what's going on here." 

"Let's go and get a coffee and talk," Lestrade said to Donovan. 

"A coffee?" 

"Yes, I think now would be a good time to leave the Holmes' brothers alone." 

Lestrade lead Donovan out the door. 

"Should I open it?" Autumn said. 

"We already know what it is," Mycroft said. 

"We do?" John said. 

"Go ahead," Sherlock said. 

Autumn opened the envelope. "Its an invitation to the memorial." 

"What a surprise," Sherlock said. 

"What memorial?" John said. 

"Sherrinford's," Sherlock stormed out of the room. 

"I will go after him," John said, heading out the door. 

"You need to tell Sherlock," Autumn said to Mycroft.

"No. He will only forgive me out of pity," Mycroft said. 

"Better out of pity than not at all." 


	6. Feeling Weak

"Breaking promises already," Sherlock said to Natalia as he entered 221 B.

She was on the sofa leaning over the table with a spoon in one hand and a lighter in the other. He grabbed the spoon, lighter and the drugs off the table. 

"Hey!" She tried to grab it from him, but he held it above her head and she was too short to reach. 

"Is that what you do with Mrs. Hudson's cutlery while she is kidnapped?" 

"Who is Mrs. Hudson?" She leapt up for his hand. 

"I thought you promised not to be a bad influence," Sherlock said. 

"You weren't home!" Natalia said, and an intense hatred flared in her eyes. She latched onto the lapels of Sherlock's coat. 

"You don't want to do this," he whispered. "You will regret it. And and the regret is not worth the high. It's never worth it. It will always cost you something in the end." 

"I need them," she whispered, tears formed in her blue eyes. "Please, you know what it's like." 

Sherlock shook his head. "I can't!" 

"You are a hypocrite." 

"Yes," he agreed." 

"Please, I will beg you if that's what you want. I will do anything. Please..." Tears were falling down her cheeks and he could feel her body shaking as she buried her face in his chest.

"This will pass," he said. 

"Are you telling me that or trying to tell yourself that?" she muffled into his chest. 

He tried to pull away but she clutched onto him and look up at him. "Please, I am begging you." 

Sherlock saw the sadness in her eyes, and he slowly lowered his hand, ready to give her the drugs. Suddenly the drugs were snatched from his hands by someone else 


	7. Feeling Broken

"I can't believe it," John said clutching the drugs, spoon and lighter. He also took the syringe off the coffee table. "You were going to give them to her!"

"Don't ever say I don't feel pity," Sherlock warned. 

Autumn entered the room holding the pushy of the Irish Setter. She threw it on Sherlock's chair and rushed over to Natalia. 

The girl was hunched over in the corner crying.

"Natalia, what happened?" 

"This is what happened!" John held up his hands and Autumn look horrified. "She was going to do drugs and Sherlock was going to let her!" 

"Oh Natalia," Autumn gently rubbed small circles onto the young girl's back. 

John went to dispose of the drugs and the drug paraphernalia. 

Sherlock turned on the Tv to watch the news broadcast about the map theft. 

"No one saw the thief come or go," Sherlock said. He threw the plushy off of his chair before he sat down and steepled his hands under his chin as he watched the Tv.

"Great. Then how are we going to find Mrs. Hudson?" Autumn asked. 

"She is safe until the fifth," Sherlock said. "Mycroft and Lestrade have men looking for her in the meantime." 

John walked back into the living room, his fists clenched. "Ok, we need to talk about this!" 

"I am sorry," Natalia said between sobs. 

Autumn reached over and pulled her into a hug. 

"You need to go to rehab," John said to Natalia. 

"No! I don't want to go," Natalia cried into Autumn's shoulder. 

John knelt down in front of them, and placed is hand on Natalia's back. "Hey, it could help you. You will feel better and get your life back." 

She shook her head. "I don't want to go. I want to be free of the drugs, but I don't want to leave you..." 

"Okay. Okay," John whispered. "What if we help you come off of it here. I am doctor. I could help." 

"I would like that," Natalia smiled through her tears. 

"Come on, lets get you up on the couch." John and Autumn helped Natalia up.

John turned around to face Sherlock. "See, Sherlock, it's not that hard to ask your friends for help. We could..." John stopped speaking when he saw tears falling down Sherlock's face. 

Sherlock's eyes were glued to the Tv. 

Autumn stood up in shock and ran over to get a better look at the television. 

"Sherlock, is that you?" 

The news broadcast kept being interrupted by an old video of a four year playing on the beach with his too older brothers. 

The little boy had brown curly hair and was giggling as his older brothers played pirates with him. 

"Careful, Sherrinford," a woman's voice could be heard form behind the camera. "Not too rough he is still just a baby." 

Sherlock found drift wood and he was yielding it like a sword. Mycroft was play along with Sherlock too, trying to fight off, Sherrinford who was supposed to be the evil pirate fighting them. 

"I am not a babwee," Sherlock said, lunging forward with is fake sword. 

Sherlock tripped and fell face first into the sand. 

Ten year old Mycroft dropped the wood and picked up his crying brother. He wiped the sand from his face, and kissed his forehead. 

"Oh no," fifteen year old Sherrinford said. He dropped the piece of wood picked Sherlock up out of Mycroft's arms. "Pirates don't cry." 

Sherlock laughed as Sherrinford tossed him up in the air caught him. "Pirates can fly though!" 

"That's eelogicul Sherrinfword. Piwates don't fly!"

"Sure they can!" 

Sherlock laughed. The video cut out and he news broadcast returned. 

John's cellphone started ringing. He pulled it out of her back pocket and answered. 

"How is he?" Mycroft said.

"You saw the video too?" 

"It was broadcast across London." 

"Oh no!" John placed his head in his hands.

"I had the flat searched while we were looking for Mrs. Hudson. The place is clean." 

"Natalia never mentioned them stopping by." 

"Natalia? Oh, your guest. My agents told me that the flat was empty when they searched." 

"Ah, she must have been out," John said, "to get...groceries." He knew that Natalia had gone out to get drugs. 

"Keep Sherlock inside. Don't let him go out." 

"Ok, we will keep an eye on him." 


	8. Feeling Numb

Sherlock felt numb; he was vaguely aware of Autumn holding his hand, asking him to respond.

John was kneeling beside him as well, checking his pulse on his neck. 

"I am fine," Sherlock pulled his hand free from Autumn. "I just want to be alone." 

"I don't know if that's a good idea," John said, standing up. 

"I know Mycroft had the flat searched. I am just going to my room." 

"Umm, okay," Autumn said. "Let us know if you need anything." 

Sherlock got up and took the plushy off of the floor before going to his room and shutting the door. 

He sat on the floor. It was easy to tear open the plushy, the sewing was purposely loose. 

Inside he found a one hit kit along with various kinds of drugs. 

There was a moment when he paused, a part of him was desperate to use, and the other part of him was begging to hand the drugs over to John or Autumn. 

He took out his phone from his jacket pocket. He could call Mycroft or Lestrade. 

Soon he found himself dialling his mother's number. 

"Holmes residence," she answered and her familiar voice made warmth flood in his chest. 

"Hello mummy," Sherlock said, staring down at the plushy filled with drugs. 

"William!" 

"Yes, mum." 

"It's so nice to hear form you. It's been an age." 

"I know, I am sorry. I get busy with the cases." 

"That's okay, dear. I know you are busy with your exciting life. I have been reading your doctor's blog." 

"Oh no." 

"I am so proud of you, dear." 

"Thanks mum," he said. 

"See, I knew you would make friends. You are so loveable I new someone had to see what I see." 

"Thanks," his voice trembled. He wanted to tell her about Sherrinford, but she was so proud of him. Sherlock couldn't break her heart. 

"Is something wrong, dear?" 

Sherlock knew his parents didn't have a TV so they wouldn't have seen the video. 

"No. No. I just want to make sure you are doing well. I know with the memorial coming up it's hard on you 

"You were always so thoughtful. I am okay. How are you?" 

"Mum...there is something I need to tell you..." 

"What is it?" 

"Umm..." 

"William you are scaring me!" 

"I just...just wanted to say I love you." 

"Dear, I love you too. But are you sure you are alright?" 

"Yes. Yes. I am fine, thanks. How is dad?" 

"You father is well, dear. He keeps trying to talk me into bee keeping." 

"That's nice. Well, I will let you get back to your gardening." 

"Okay, have a nice day dear." 

"You too." 

"And William," 

"Yes?" 

"You know I love you, right?" 

"Have a good day, mummy." Sherlock hung up the phone. His fingers trembled as he prepared the drugs. 

Ding! He got a text: 

Is everything okay? 

Mummy called. She is worried. 

Sherlock replied: 

I need help, Mycr-- But then he deleted it and replied with: 

I am fine. 

Just tried to tell her what happened and I lost the nerve. 

Mycroft replied: I am proud of you for trying 

Sherlock put his phone in his pocket returned to the kit in his hands. He got up and went of over to his desk where he grabbed a note book and some paper. He would need to write a list.

He felt sick with regret even before he pushed the needle into his arm.


	9. Feeling Desperate

Sherlock woke up with a throbbing pain in his head. Pressure spread across his forehead their was tension behind his eyes. His stomach burned and his chest felt tight. It took all his might sit up straight, and even then he felt weak and dizzy.

Sherlock realized he was clutching a note in his hand--no not a note, the list! 

The infamous notebook Mycroft had carried around was in Sherlock's desk. Sherlock took the notebook out and placed the list inside before and closed the drawer. 

The curtains in his room were closed and he had no idea what day or time it was. When he stepped into the living room his the brightness of the afternoon sun hurt his eyes. 

"Well, g-good morning," Autumn said, she was curled up on the sofa with a blanket, sweat dripped down her brow. "Or should I s-say g-good afternoon." 

John walked form the kitchen into the living room. He held a plate of with toast on it and a cup of tea in his other hand.

"You are finally up," John said to Sherlock. "You slept all yesterday and into the afternoon, that's not like you." 

"Hmm," Sherlock flopped down in his chair, and curled in on himself. "Where's Autumn?" 

"Out getting groceries." John took a seat beside Natalia on the sofa. "Here," he handed her the plate, "you need to eat." 

"I can't!" She placed her head in her hands. "I can't do this anymore. I need it!" 

"No, no you don't." John placed the plate and the cup on the coffee table. 

"I hate this! I hate withdrawal. I c-can't do it--!" 

"Yes. Yes you can," he said. 

He walked over to Natalia and knelt in front of her. "Do this. Get throw it, you will thank yourself in the end." 

"You should listen to him," John said. 

"Its, j-just so hard," her body shook and her teeth chattered when she spoke. 

"It's hard, but you are stronger than this. You are stronger than the demons in you mind." Sherlock grabbed onto her shoulders in an effort to comfort her. 

"You m-make it sound so easy." 

"It's not. But you can fight it." 

"B-But you are a liar...you are coming down yourself." 

"What?" John looked down at Sherlock with concern written all over his face. 

"Yes. Take it from someone who knows, you don't want to live like this," Sherlock's voice trembled. 

"You r-really think I can get better?" Autumn said, tears poured down her face. 

He reached over and wiped the tears from her eyes with his hand. "Yes, you will fight this and one day you will make yourself so proud." 

He reached over and wiped the tears from her eyes with his hand. "But you will fight this and one day you will make yourself so proud." 

Natalia lunged forward embraced Sherlock; she cried into his chest. Sherlock stroked her hair just like his mother would do to him when he was feeling ill. 

"I am proud of you Sherlock," John whispered. 

"I don't see why," Sherlock whispered back. 

"Please, help me," Natalia cried. "Oh! What have I done? Please, help me." 

"Shh," Sherlock rubbed small circles on her back. "I will help. I will help you get clean and I will help solve your case." 

"What's going on?" Autumn stood in the to the living room with her hands full of groceries. 

"Here, let me help." John stood up and took the groceries from Autumn hands. He brought them into the kitchen. 

Sherlock pulled away from Natalia and smiled down at her. "Give me a minute with Autumn." 

Natalia nodded and got back up on the sofa to rest. 

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" 

"You wanted to the chance to fix whatever is wrong with me, right?" he whispered. "That's what my brother hired you to do, right? Then do it. Make me better." 


	10. Feeling Sick

"You wanted to the chance to fix whatever is wrong with me, right?" he whispered so Natalia wouldn't hear. "That's what my brother hired you to do."

"It's not that simple." 

"I am giving you the chance. Go on then, fix me." 

"You are not broken," she whispered. 

"I just need you to make this go away before it's too late." 

"Before what's too late?" she whispered. 

"I need to destroy this...destroy this before it destroys me, and I need you to do it now." 

"I can't give you an instant cure," she whispered. "This takes time." 

"I don't have time," his voice trembled. 

"John," Autumn yelled. "Sherlock and I are going to my bedroom." 

John came out of the kitchen. "Umm..okay? Just don't make too much noise." 

"That's not what I mean!" 

"I will keep a watch on Natalia," John said, all kidding aside. 

Autumn closed the door behind her once they were upstairs in her room. 

Sherlock took a seat in the chair by Autumn's desk and Autumn sat on the edge of her bed. 

"You used again?" Autumn said. 

He nodded. 

"Why?" 

"You know why." 

"It wasn't your fault," she said. 

Sherlock's headache was growing worse, it was getting hard to concentrate. 

"It was." 

She shook her head. "You were just a kid." 

"I was a smart kid. I knew better." 

"Was it your intention to kill your brother?" 

"Of course not!" 

"Then you need to stop punishing yourself." 

"I don't punish myself!" 

"John thinks you get your kicks from danger, by proving your clever." 

"You think he is wrong?" 

"I think you put yourself in dangerous situations in order to distract yourself from your grief, but mostly you do it to punish yourself for what happened to Sherrinford. You don't deserve that, Sherlock. You have to let this go," she said with sympathy. 

"Let it go? I held my brother in my arms and watched the life drain out of his eyes." 

"Sherlock, he was older. He new better. He should have been protecting you, not the other way around. You were still just a baby yourself." 

Sherlock closed his and blew out a shaky breath. "I see him. I see him dying every time I close my eyes." 

"What were Sherrinford's last words to you?" "I...I-I love you." 

"He loved you Sherlock, and he wouldn't want to see you hurting." 

"I am going to have to go to my brother's memorial tomorrow. Autumn, I am going to get worse before I getter better." 

"What? What do you mean?" 

"Natalia's case and the disappearance of Mrs. Hudson --it's all connected to what happened with Sherrinford. I will have to the memorial tomorrow in order to find Mrs. Hudson. But being there will bring back memories, memories that could get in the way of solving the case--of saving Mrs. Hudson. I will need to think clearly." 

"Sherlock! Are you asking me for permission for you to get high again?" 

"I am not asking for your permission." 

"Good. I wouldn't let--" 

"Because I don't need your permission." 

"Sherlock!" 

"I will do what it takes to find Mrs. Hudson, okay!" 

"Then what are you asking me, Sherlock?" 

"If Mycroft tries to put me in rehab I need you to stop him," Sherlock said. 

"Stop your brother! Are you insane? He will kidnap me and using me a lab rat for top secret warfare experiments." 

"Please, I have to find Mrs. Hudson first, and in order to find her I will have to take drastic measures." 

"You can solve this without taking drugs!" 

"If I go back to the cottage...back to where it all happened...the memories will torment me and I wont be able to focus on finding Mrs. Hudson. I will need something to help me focus." 

"What you are asking me goes against everything I am--everything I believe. My job is to help people! As your friend it would hurt me to let you do this." 

"You considered me your f-friend?" 

"Yes. You are my friend, Sherlock." 

"Then as my friend, not as my therapist, please...let me do this." 

"Like you said, I can't really stop you." 

"Don't allow Mycroft lock me away while I am on this case. At least allow me to find Mrs. Hudson first." 

"Do you even want to get better?" 

"I want to be in control again. My mind is my most valuable asset and I don't like not being in control of it. After I find Mrs. Hudson I will do whatever Mycroft wants. He can ship me to rehab in Antarctica for all I care." 

Autumn took a moment before she replied. "Fine. Fine I will do it, but after all of this you need to get help." 

"I am going out. Mycroft has camera's above the front door. When he sees me leave he will ask you where I am. Tell him I am just going to Bart's. He will believe you." Sherlock stood up. 

"Do I want to know where you are really going?" 

"No. No you don't." 

There was a knock on the bedroom door and Autumn went to open it. John stood there. 

"Rehab," John said. 

"Sorry, what?" Autumn said, looking nervously to Sherlock. 

"Natalia has decided she wants to go to rehab. I am going to drive her there." 

"Okay, I will go with you," Autumn said. 

"Sherlock," John said. "You know...you could...you could go too. It might help you. In fact you and Natalia might be able to help each other." 

Sherlock smiled. "No need. Miss. Grace's skills as a psychiatrist are extraordinary. I just had a major breakthrough." 

"Really?" John said. 

"Umm...yes. He is doing great," Autumn said. She felt sick to her stomach. 

"Well, I need to go out to Bart's," Sherlock headed passed John and down the hallway. 

"You sure it's good to leave him alone?" John questioned Autumn. 

"Yea, he is fine," she smiled but felt dreadful inside. 

"Alright, do you want to come for the taxi ride, and drop Natalia off with me. I think she needs the emotional support." 

Autumn felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her jeans. 

"Yeah, I will go. Just give me a second." 

John left Autumn alone in her room. She reached for her phone and found that Mycroft sent her a text. 

Mycroft:

Why is my brother going out alone? 

Autumn replied: 

We actually had a talk  
about Sherrinford. Sherlock's  
idea. He said he will go  
to rehab after we find  
Mrs. Hudson, but he needs  
his space. Doesn't like  
feeling suffocated by us.  
So I let him go to Barts.  


Mycroft replied: 

Ok. 

She received another text from Myrcoft: 

I am trusting you  
Miss. Grace.  
Do not let me down.  


Autumn felt like she was going to be sick.


	11. Get Rid of the Feeling

The next day Autumn and John piled into the back of Mycroft's waiting car.

"Where is my brother?" Mycroft said. He sat in the back of the car. His black suit was tailored to perfection and his shoes shined until they almost sparkled. 

"He said he would meet us at the memorial. He is finding his own way there," Autumn said as she picked fluff off of her black pencil skirt. 

"You know as someone who was hired to watch my baby brother, you do allow him a lot of freedoms." 

"We can't keep smothering him," John said. "It will only make him push us away." "Glad everyone is an expert on my baby brother. However, I do have a little insight about his heart, and I know its not good for him to be alone at this time of year." 

"He said he will be there," Autumn replied. 

When they got to the Sherrinford's grave sight it was surrounded by mourners placing bouquets by his headstone. 

"Oh Myc, I am so glad you came." Mrs. Holmes had tears pouring down her face as she hugged her son. 

"Yes. Mummy. Of course I would come." He rubbed small circles on her back. 

"Good to see you son," Mr. Holmes placed a firm hand on Mycroft's shoulder, and smiled sadly at his boy. 

"Who is this pretty girl you brought, Mycie?" Mrs. Holmes addressed Autumn. 

"This is Miss. Autumn Grace and Doctor John Watson, they are friends of Sherlock." 

"Oh, thank you for coming." She hugged John and then Autumn. 

"It's so nice to see that he finally has some friends. Violet and I were always worried he wouldn't have any." Mr. Holmes shook their hands. 

"Mummy, has Sherlock showed up yet?" 

"I haven't seen..." Mrs. Holme's eyes widened as she gazed over Mycroft's shoulder. 

Mycroft turned around. 

Sherlock stood there dressed in all black. His suit was dishevelled and his hair a mess. 

He held onto a single flower that fell form his trembling hands. 

"No," Sherlock whispered. His eyes glued to Sherrinford's grave. Surrounding the grave were several flowers, but in the centre was a floral red cross. 

"What Sherlock? It's just a cross," John said. 

"It's not a cross," Mycroft added. "It's an 'X'." 

"'X' marks the spot," Autumn whispered. "Son, are you okay?" Mr. Holmes took a step towards Sherlock. 

Several friends and family members glanced over to see what was going on. 

"I can't," Sherlock pushed passed several mourners, all dressed in black. He was in a daze. 

"Sherlock," John said, following after him. 

Sherlock look down at the red 'X' in front of his brother's grave. 

"I can't," he fell to his knees."I can't dig up my own brother's grave! Help! Oh, poor Mrs. Hudson. I-I don't know what to do." 

The mourners, Sherlock's own distant relatives, and family friends, started whispering to each other about what was happening. 

"Sherlock, dear, what do you mean?" Mrs. Holmes said. 

"Mrs. Hudson is buried in their. They put her in their...but I can't...I can't dig up my own brother's grave. Help her! Someone has to help her!" 

Mycroft knelt beside his brother in the grass, and placed a gentle hand on his brother's back. "Sherlock! Look. Make a deduction. The earth here hasn't been disturbed in years. Mrs. Hudson hasn't been buried here." 

"Mycroft, tell us what's going on," Mr. Holmes said. 

Mycroft paid no attention to his parents, nor to the crowd of weeping mourners that surrounded them. 

"But she is in there..." Sherlock whispered. "She is in there, My..." 

"You never call me My. Not unless...not unless..." Mycroft grabbed his brother by the shoulder's and turned him to face him. "What have you taken?" 

Thunder rumbled in the distance and drops of rain began to fall on all of them, the mourners began to disperse. 

"No," John said. "He was doing well." 

"Not again," Mrs. Holmes said. "My poor boy." 

Mr. Holmes embraced his wife in a hug, and comforted her. 

"Sherlock!" Mycroft throttled his brother by the shoulders. "What did you take?" 

"I am sorry, My. I needed to think and in order to think I needed it to stop hurting..." 

Mycroft looked up at Autumn. "You were supposed to be watching him. You were supposed to help him!" 

"I am so sorry," she whispered, "he said he needed them one last time and then he would go to rehab." 

"You let him have them!" Mycroft roared. "Hey," John said, "this isn't helping." 

"I need to find Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock struggled to free himself from Mycroft's grasp. "I am not going to let her die too." "No! You need to stay right here while I call an ambulance, and then you are going to rehab." 

"No. I have to stay and find her." Sherlock finally pulled himself free only to have Mycroft to try and restrain him. 

Sherlock hit Mycroft across the face with a loud thud! Blood poured from Mycroft's nose. 

"William!" Mrs. Holmes cried. 

Lightening flashed and the rain poured. "William!" Mrs. Holmes screamed her son's name, as rain poured down. 

Her son didn't turn around, he kept on running. 


	12. Feeling Hate and Love

Sherlock knew there was only one other place Mrs. Hudson could be. The old abandoned barn where he used to play with Sherrinford as a kid.

"So...I-I am here. I am here. What do you want?" Sherlock yelled up into the rafters. 

A few pigeons flew away at the sound of Sherlock's voice, and rain dripped from the ceiling. The barn was dark, the only light seeped in through the cracks in wooden walls. 

"H-Hello," Sherlock said. It was hard for him to focus. His head was pounding, and his body was aching with pain, he was coming down form his high and he could tell it was going to be awful. 

Suddenly Sherlock heard footsteps behind him, just above the sound of the thunder. 

He felt a presence behind him. 

"I-I hated you," she said. 

Sherlock turned around to face Natalia. She was dressed all in black and holding a sword, a long, sharp sword. 

"I-I can tell that you are scared, Sherlock. I can deduce it by the way your eyes dart towards the door, looking for an exit plan. I can also tell you were high--it's obvious. Not only are your eyes r-red, but you have chills, yet you make no attempt to button up your coat." The sword wavered in her hand. "If you were cold from rain you w-would have buttoned it up, but this chill is different. This ch-chill is in your bones. It's the withdrawal. I can vaguely make out the cuff of your suit jacket a-and shirt, it's undone, but the other is done up. It's b-because you roll that sleeve up when you want to inject, r-right?" 

Sherlock kept backing up as Natalia got closer and closer with the sword in hand. 

"See," she said. "You and Mycroft are the only members of the Holmes family who are good at d-deductions." 

"I don't understand," Sherlock whispered, he continued to back up. "Where is Mrs.Hudson?" 

"You ruined my life," she said, her body trembled. 

"How?" he said. 

"You killed my father." 

"I never knew your father." 

"Sherrinford!" Hot tears streamed down Natalia's face. "Sherrinford was my father, and you killed him. My mother was an addicted, she overdosed and died, and I had no father so I was put in foster home after foster home. If you hand't killed Sherrinford I would have had a home. I would have had a family." 

"He never mentioned you." 

"He didn't know about me," she said. "He never got a chance to know." 

"I-I didn't mean to do it on purpose. I l-love Sherrinford." 

"I was told that you didn't love him. That you hated him and were jealous and you killed him because you were jealous of his intelligence.

"Who told you that! It's not true! I loved him." Sherlock's eyes started to blur with tears. 

"You are lying." 

"No. He was my big brother...he....he was everything to me, of course I loved him." Sherlock's back hit the wall, but Natalia kept approaching with the sword. 

"I just wanted revenge," she whispered. 

Sherlock's eyes darted around in panic. He was trapped against the wall, his senses impaired because he was high, and the sword was getting ever closer. 

"Think," Sherlock said to himself. "Think." No logical solutions came to mind, he settled on the last available conclusion: He was going to die. 

Natalia got closer and closer, the knife was inches from Sherlock's throat. 

"What are you waiting for," he said to her. "I know I deserve it." 

Natalia lunged forward, Sherlock closed his eyes, braced himself, and tried not to scream. 

Instead of feeling pain he felt warmth around hid body, and he heard the sword clatter to the floor. 

Natalia was crying into his chest. "I am sorry, uncle. I was told you were evil..." 

Sherlock's legs gave way beneath him and he slunk to the ground with Natalia in his arms. 

"What are you talking about," Sherlock whispered. 

Natalia pulled away from Sherlock's chest and looked up into his eyes. It was then that Sherlock realized that they both shared the same electric blue eye colour that his mother, and Sherrinford had. 

"I went online and posted a photo of my mother, asking if anyone new who my birth parents were. A few days l-later and Irish m-man in a suit contacted me. He h-had all this information about Sherrinford and my mother," her voice trembled and she took a moment to collect herself. 

"I am sure he did," Sherlock said. 

"He told me that you were a psychopath and that you killed your b-brother when you were only ten. I needed real proof that we were related, so he t-took your blood to test my DNA. He said it had to be dramatic or you would be board with me. So I made up the story that I was kidnapped by the people in white van. It h-had to be interesting so you would take the c-case. So...so..." Her body trembled and she buried her face into the chest. 

Sherlock placed his hand on her back to calm her. 

"So I could hurt you, Sherlock. So I could tempt you drugs, and distract you. I am sorry. I am so sorry. He s-said you were evil, but then you were so kind to me." 

"Mrs. Hudson, you didn't hurt her?" 

Natalia shook her head. "No. They promised me they wouldn't hurt her. She should be brought back to Baker Street today." 

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. 

"I am sorry. I am so sorry." She clutched onto him desperately. "I know I am practically a s-stranger to you, but no one has ever treated me with as much kindness as you. You're the o-only family I have ever known. I want to h-hate you for what happened to m-my father, a-and a part of me is still angry, and I came here to get my revenge, but once I saw you high and afraid, I didn't feel any better. I felt worse, for hurting you, for hurting by dad's baby brother. You are my f-family and I l-love you, Sherlock." 

The silence that followed was filled with the sound of the rolling thunder, the rain, and Autumn's shaking breath. 

"I-I am sorry, Natalia. I am sorry for what happened to Sherrinford. I never meant for him to die." 

"But you are so smart, how could you be so irresponsible?" 

"I guess I just wanted to prove that I was smart, but it turns out I am just idiot, like everyone else." 


	13. Feeling Pain

***  
"Oh, my baby!" Mrs. Holmes leapt up from her seat at the kitchen table when she saw Sherlock. 

Once the rain had cleared Natalia and Sherlock made their way over to the Holmes' cottage. 

They found John, Mycroft, and Autumn all sitting at the kitchen table with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. 

"We were looking for you," John said to Sherlock. "Mrs. Hudson was left at Baker Street unharmed. 

"Natalia!" Autumn said. "What are you doing here? And why do you have a sword?" 

"It's a long story," Natalia said. "Sherlock will tell you everything."

"Oh, Sherlock." Mrs. Holmes hugged her son. "I was so worried about you." 

"We were all worried," John said. 

"Come on. Sit down," Mr. Holmes said to Sherlock. "We just made some tea." 

"No. I don't feel like sitting," Sherlock said. "But mum...dad. I need to tell you something." 

Mrs. Holmes furrowed her brow. "What is it dear? I have never seen you this afraid before." 

"I have to tell you something, but I am.afraid..." 

" Afraid of what?" Mr. Holmes said. Sympathy in his eyes. 

"Afraid...that you wont love me anymore," Sherlock said. 

Mrs. Holmes stroked her son's face. "Oh, dear, nothing you could do would make me stop loving you." 

"I am proud of you for doing this, Sherlock," Mycroft said. 

"Mycie, you know what this is about?" Mr. Holmes asked. 

"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Holmes asked Sherlock. 

"Should we be doing this now?" John said. "Sherlock needs me to give him a look over, and Natalia should be in rehab." 

"Please, he needs to do this now," Natalia said. 

"Mommy, it's about Sherrinford." 

"What about him, dear." 

"It's my fault Sherrinford died." 

_"Sherlock, you need to leave Sherrinford alone," Mycroft said to his ten year old brother._

_"But he promised me he would take me to see the boat show on the lake. There is supposed to be a boat that looks like a pirate ship, Mycroft!"_

_Mycroft smiled and ruffled Sherlock's hair. "I know, but he has a cold, and there is going to be a storm soon. It's not safe for driving."_

_Mycroft headed down the hallway of the cottage and into his room._

_"I know he doesn't have a cold," Sherlock said to Mycroft. "I know it's withdrawal."_

_Mycroft got up from his desk and shut the door quickly behind them. "Sherlock, you are too young to know about that sort of thing."_

_"I do know about it, and I know why he does it."_

_"Why?"_

_"It quiets his mind," Sherlock whispered._

_Mycroft got down on his knees and looked into his baby brother's big blue eyes. "Sherlock, how do you know this?"_

_"I understand. Sherrinford and I have the same kind of mind. It races and we need something to slow it down."_

_Mycroft ran his hands down Sherlock's arms and then grabbed onto his brother's tiny hands. "Sherlock, you haven't tried any drugs, have you?"_

_Sherlock shook his head. "No"_

_"Thank God," Mycroft said with a sigh. "But your mind is still bothering you?"_

_Sherlock nodded. "I need something to make it stop._

_Redbeard makes it stop, and playing with you and Sherrinford makes it stop."_

_Mycroft brushed some stray curls away from his brother's forehead. "That's good, Lock."_

_"But it's been raining all week." Tears formed in Sherlock's blue eyes. "I haven't been able to play pirates or anything. I am so board, and it makes my mind hurt, My."_

_"Oh, Sherlock. I wish I new how to help you."_

_Sherlock leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck. "Being with you makes it better, though."_

_Mycroft held his brother close. "Lock. I worry I about you constantly."_

_Sherlock pulled away from Mycroft's embrace. "I don't want to make you worry!"_

_"It's okay. I am your older brother, its my job to worry."_

_Thump!_

_Sherlock's eyes grew wide. "What was that?"_

_"Sherlock, stay here, okay."_

_Sherlock did not listen and followed Mycroft to Sherrinford's room._

_Sherrinford had fallen from the bed and was on the floor. He was clinging onto Mycroft's knees, crying. _"Pleasee, I need some, give me some Mycroft!" Sherrinfored trembled.__

_"I can't!" Mycroft tried to pry Sherrinford's fingers from his knees._

_"Then kill me. Kill me. I want to die!"_

_"You don't mean that," Mycroft said, rather alarmed. "That's just the withdrawal making you feel that, but you will get better."_

_"I don't want you to die," Sherlock said._

_"Sherlock!" Mycroft shut the door. _"Shhh. Mummy and dad don't know, and they are just downstairs watching tv."_ _

_"Please leave," Sherrinford said._

_"Sherlock, get out. I-I don't want you to see me like this. I d-don't want to ruin your innocence."_

_Sherlock was hesitant as he walked up to Sherrinford._

_His eyes looked dazed and sweat made his curls damp and cling to his forehead._

_"I was just hoping you would be better so we could go to see the boats."_

_"Oh no! Sherlock, I forgot." Sherrinford started sobbing. "I am so sorry. I am sorry, Sherlock. I forgot and I got high and I am letting this addiction rob me of everything."_

_Sherlock hugged Sherrinford. "It's okay."_

_"No. It's not. I want to be a good brother for you, but I am being a terrible influence." _"Come on, Sherlock," Mycroft said. _"Why don't you go to your room. I will get Redbeard from down stairs and you can dress him up as a pirate, or bee. How does that sound?"___

_"No. We can't leave Sherrinford."_

_"I w-want you to leave," Sherrinford said. "I want you both to leave. I am supposed to be someone you can look up to--for both of you and I am failing."_

_"You are not," Mycroft said._

_"Please, just leave me."_

*** 

_Sherlock sat on the floor in his room with Redbeard by his side._

_"You stay here, Redbeard," Sherlock whispered._

_The dog tilted his head and the pirate hat tilted to the side._

_Mycroft was downstairs watching tv with their parents, so it was easy for little Sherlock to sneak into Mycroft's room._

_He found the drugs in Mycroft's desk drawer, and took them before heading down the hall. When Sherlock walked into Sherrinford's room he found his brother curled up in a ball in the corner of the room shivering._

_"Sherlock," Sherrinford whispered. Sherlock could see the tiredness in his brother's eyes, and it broke his heart. "What are you doing here."_

_Sherlock handed his brother the drugs. "I know how it hurts. I know how your thoughts hurt and I don't want to see you hurt anymore."_

_Sherrinford look from the bag of drugs up to Sherlock. _"Lock, leave, okay. I don't want you to see this." Sherrinford took the drugs.__

_Sherlock hugged his brother and then sat in the hallway and waited._

_The door to Sherrinford's room swung open._

_"Come on! Let's go and see those boats," Sherrinford said, bounding withe energy._

_"Are you sure you are feeling well enough?"_

_"Of course! I feel like I could anything."_

_Sherlock smiled. "Really? And you want to see the pirate ship?"_

_"Of course I do, but lets take the stairs in the back of the cottage, and we can borrow the neighbours car, okay."_

_"Why?"_

"Mycroft is a spoil sport. We don't want him to tell mom and dad we are going." 

*** _"I-I don't feel so w-well," Sherrinford said. He pulled the car over to the side of the road._

_"What's wrong?" Sherlock said from the passenger side of the car._

_"Sher...Sherlock," Sherrrinford's eyes rolled in the back of his head and he passed out._

_"Sherrinford! Sherrinford you are scaring me!" Sherlock shook his brother, but he didn't respond._

_They were stuck on the side of the road, in the pouring rain. Mycroft had taken Sherrinford's phone so he couldn't contact his dealer, Ingrid._

_"It's okay, Sherrinford." Sherlock dried his tear stained face with the back of his hand. "I am smart. I can help you."_

_Sherlock sat on his brothers lap and started the car. It was getting dark, and it was raining, making visibility poor._

_Sherlock had to stand on his brother's feet to reach the gas peddle and the break._

_The car swerved a bit, but then Sherlock got it back into control._

_Sherlock kept on driving. Suddenly thunder boomed and it frightened him. He lost control of the car, and it swerved into a lamp post._

_He remembered hearing glass shatter, then their was darkness._

_Sherlock came back to consciousness with a scream. His entire body felt broken and cut up._

_Rain poured over his face, and body, making everything hurt and sting._

_There were lapses of consciousness and Sherlock couldn't remember how he got there, but the next thing he remembered was holding his bleeding older brother in his arms._

_"Sherrinford! Sherrinford!" He sobbed._

_Sherrinfored looked up at Sherlock. "Sh-Sherlock? You alright?"_

_Sherlock nodded. "Y-Yes."_

_Sirens could be heard in the distance over the sound of the thunder._

_Sherrinfored smiled. "Sh-Sherlock, y-you are going to do brilliant th-things one day. Okay. And d-don't listen to what the b-bullies say to you at school, one day you are g-going to have a best friend."_

_"Ford," Sherlock wiped the blood off of his brother's forehead. "I-I love you."_

_"I love you too, baby brother..." Sherrinford's smiled faded and his eyes dimmed. His body went limp in Sherlock's arms._

_Sherlock spent a month in the hospital. He has several broken bones, but the doctors said it was a miracle that he sustained so few injuries. However, there main concern was that Sherlock would not talk._

_He didn't speak for three months, and when he finally did it was to Mycroft._

_"I was driving," Sherlock sat in front of Sherrinford's grave._

_"What?" Myrcoft asked._

_"I gave Sherrinford drugs---I just wanted him to stop suffering. Then he said we could go to the boat show. We went and he passed out. So I wanted to drive him home. I was driving."_

_"Oh, Sherlock! I thought Sherrinford took the drugs!"_

_"I did. No one knows I was driving, or about the drugs, Myc. I thought the police would figure it out. I wanted them to. I wanted to go to jail, and be punished, but they just assumed Sherrinford was driving and it was the bad weather that caused the accident."_

_"Why would you think it's okay to drive?"_

_"Because I am smart." _"No Sherlock! I am the smart one. I always thought you were the slow one, but then I met other children, and it changed my opinion. I thought you were smarter than them. I was wrong. So wrong."__

_Sherlock began to cry. "I know. I am sorry."_

_Mycroft swallowed hard. "You took my big brother away from me. He was only Twenty! Only twenty years old and he died, Sherlock."_

_"Please, Myc. Will you tell mummy and daddy for me? I am so scared. I don't want them to hate me."_

"We can't tell anyone, Sherlock." 

_"Why not?"_

_"Because daddy is about to get a promotion. If anyone hears that drugs were related in this it will look bad on us."_

"Who would know." 

_"Mummy will cry and the kitchen staff back home will wonder why, and she will confide in them, and they will tell people, who will tell people. Privacy is an illusion, Sherlock. Someone is always watching."_

_"But I have to tell them!"_

_"Why? What will it solve? It wont bring Sherrinford back, will it?"_

_Sherlock remained silent._

_"Will it?"_

_"No. I know it wont! But I care what mummy and daddy think of me."_

_"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."_

_"Then leave!" Sherlock face was turing red with anger. "Leave me alone. I already lost one brother who cares if I lose another."_

_Mycroft reached over and hugged Sherlock. Sherlock fought against the embrace with all his strength, but Mycroft wouldn't let go until Sherlock was calm."It's ok, Sherlock. It's okay."_


	14. Feeling Wanted

Sherlock finished his confessing to his mother what happened.

"I- I am sorry, mum. I will go. You probably don't want to see me again."

"Don't go." Mrs. Holmes grabbed onto her son's wrist.

"No. Let me go. I am sorry. You never have to see me again."

She reached up to him and he flinched. Mrs. Holmes was never a violent woman, she never even believed in spanking her children. But Sherlock new grief could change people, make their emotions feel raw and uncontrollable. So when Violet Holmes raised her hand to her son's face, he expected to be slapped. Instead she wiped a stray tear falling form his eye. He leaned into her soft touch and closed his eyes. 

"William, I am so sorry...so sorry you felt you had to live with this secret for so long! Did I do something, when you were a boy, that made you feel like you couldn't come to me?"

"No. Mummy. I don't want you to blame yourself."

"Sherlock, " Mr. Holmes said. "We never wanted you to doubt our love for you. "

"This is my fault," Mycroft spoke up. "I made him afraid to tell you."

"No Mycie. This isn't your fault either," Mrs. Holmes added.

"You could have talk to me," John said. "If you didn't feel you could tell anyone else...well, I would have listened."

Sherlock smiled. "Thank you, John."

"William, I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"So...so you don't blame me? You don't hate me?" Sherlock was emotional and he found it hard to talk.

Mrs. Holmes embraced him. "I could never hate you. Never. You were just a boy, Sherlock. You were trying to get Sherrinford home to safety."

"B-But I was smart. I new better."

"William, you were still just a baby," she whispered to him. "If anything Sherrinford should have known better. He drove while high. He put you in danger."

"No! I don't want you to blame him. Not him. Never him."

"Shh...dear, don't panic. It's okay. I don't blame anyone. It was horrible accident."

Mrs. Holmes pulled away from the embrace to look Sherlock in the eye. "I don't blame, dear. I love you."

"Really?"

"Come here," Mr. Holmes pulled Sherlock into a hug. "It's alright. You don't have to worry anymore."

"I am sorry. I am so sorry I took Sherrinford away." Mr. Holmes looked into his son's eye's. Sherlock was shocked to see his father cry, he never cried. "Stop it!" Mr. Holmes said fiercely. He seemed angry. However, Sherlock knew his father anger wasn't directed towards him, but toward's that little voice in Sherlock's mind that told him to blame himself for Sherrinford's death. "I never want to hear you blame yourself for your brother''s death. Sherrinford decided to get into that car. I loved Sherrinford--I still do, even though he is gone. But he made a bad decision. He chose the drugs. He chose to get into that car, and I know if Sherriford was her right now he wouldn't watn you to blame yourself for his actions. Okay?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Mr. Holmes face softened. "You know I don't like it when you call me that, William."

Sherlock smiled sadly. "Yes, dad."

"There's my boy." Mr. Holmes placed a firm and comforting hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"But there is something else we need to talke about," Natalia said. "I need to talke about."

"Mom, this is Natalia," Sherlock said. "She is Sherrinford's daughter."

"What?" John said stunned.

"Natalia, why didn't you say something?" Autumn asked.

"Because," Mycroft said as it dawned on him, "she was behind your kidnapping, and the disappearance of Mrs. Hudson."

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Holmes said. He wavered on her feet, and her husband had to steady her.

"No. She wouldn't do that," Autumn said. "Go on Natalia. Tell them their must be a mistake."

She shook her head "No. There is not mistake."

"What is going on?" John said.

"Yes," Mr. Holmes said, "an explination would be nice."

Natalia expalined everything from her childhood right up to the present moment.

"I know what I did was awaful, and I hope that one day you can forgive me, and allow me into your lives. You are the kindest people I have ever met, and you are the only family I have..." Autumn hung her head. 

"I have grandchild," Mrs. Holmes said in shock. "I am grandmother."

"Dear, it's okay." Mr. Holmes placed his finger under Natalia's chin and made her look him in the eyes. "You look like him. You look like Sherrinford. Would you like to see photos of your father."

Natalia smiled through her tears. "I would love that."

"I guess you can call me grandpa, if you like."

"And I guess I am uncle Mycroft." He grinned. "Oh, what joy."

"You aren't going to kill me and dump hide my body in the cement of the next government funded building project?" Natalia asked Mycroft.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Way to hard to hide a body that way, but I do have a friend who works for a cemetary. Best way to hide the dead is among the dead."

"We are related!" Natalia beamed.

"Mycroft!" Mrs. Holmes looked horrified.

"Don't worry, mummy. She has more utility alive." 

"In Mycroft code, that means he loves you." Mr. Holmes winked at Natalia. 

"Mate," John addressed Sherlock. "Are you okay? You look ill." 

"I...I think the withdrawal is getting worse." 

"William, I wish you wouldn't do this to yourself." Mrs. Holmes said. 

"I want to stop. I do." Sherlock eyed Mycroft. "I will go. Wherever you send me, I will go...to rehab. I want to get better." 

"I wont send you anywhere," Mycroft said. 

"Please, Mycroft...I need your help," Sherlock said. "There. Are you happy? I need your help." 

"Sending you away wont save you." 

"Mycroft, be reasonable," John said. "You have the best resources, you know the best rehab centres." 

"Just listen to what he has to say," Autumn said. 

"I think Sherlock should stay here...with his family, and we should help him." 

"I couldn't ask that of you," Sherlock said. 

"No." Mr. Holmes said. "Your brother is right. You need us. William, you need to be in a place where you feel you belong, with people who can understand your mind." 

"We did if before," Mrs. Holmes said. "When you were a teenager, and it worked out. We can do it again." 

"I don't want to put you through that." 

"I am your mother. I want to be here for you." 

"Sherlock," Mycroft said. "I was there for you before. I will be there for you gain. Always. I will always be there for you, even if it's the last thing I do."


End file.
